


The creation and life of Compiler

by pinkparasol



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Codependency, Gen, Mental Instability, Mind Control, Mind Games, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 26,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkparasol/pseuds/pinkparasol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if Clu had decided to do something else when he was given a new user on a silver platter? After all, what better way to fully take everything his Creator held dear then to turn his own Son against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First and Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tehkittykat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehkittykat/gifts), [Angelcide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelcide/gifts).



> This is sadly not a straight point A to point B type of story. Instead it is basically just a bunch of one shots that all connect and are based in the Recompiler Universe. This also means that some of the 'chapters' will not be in order timeline wise and I am sorry for any confusion this may cause.

It had been over twenty years and many things from his childhood were gone, or tucked away in some far reaching corner. All but those plastic figures of Disk Wars and lightcycles, of CLU with his father’s face, and that three inch action figure of Tron. The lights didn’t work anymore, and the paint on most of him had faded or been scraped off due to rough play and just being handled so much as he grew up. It sat, pride of place, on the metal shelf of random items and knick knacks in his little shipping container home. Another reminder of everything like the clear and unobstructed view he had of ENCOM’s main office building. Faded objects for faded memories and ideals that he still clung to.

It was likely he only had a fleeting thought of sorrow and regret that he had left Alan without a word, just like his dad did, until CLU had promised to show him how to send a page to say he was okay and not to worry. To go back to his life and forget about trying to keep up this futile effort to keep ENCOM waiting for a man that had spent more time in this place then caring for the outside world. It was actually sad how much Alan had given up for his dad, how much time he took from his own life to care for the son left behind, like those plastic figures left forgotten on that metal shelf. It wasn’t really all that needed anymore as he watched CLU manipulate a series of code, his time spent studying such on the other side making it easy for him to see and predict the data flow as easily as he breathed.

_“Keep watch over him, he’s a very important guest for us all.”_

As easily as he had gotten used to the odd mechanical whirring like purr that came from _Tron_ Rinzler that followed him everywhere now. Especially if he left the building CLU had set him in. An odd sort of companionship that had chafed at first having been almost hermit like since he had moved out of his grandparents’ home. Until that program had attempted to do something, kill him? Kidnap him? He wasn’t certain and would never know as Rinzler happened to be following him that time when he had still attempted to lose his shadow. Back when the light of the way back home had still shined. Since the light had gone out, and he had bowed to the restriction of never going anywhere in the city alone the program had not been seen again. Though, CLU didn’t seem all that bothered that he or she had gotten away and had fled into the wastelands. He had almost seemed pleased by it when the Black Guards had reported the escape. 

It was easier after that event to not mind, or at least not as openly mind as he had once done when he was surrounded by Black Guard or not allowed more than two steps in any direction away from Rinzler. It was odd and made him wonder if this is what it would have been like if Alan had been able to keep the reporters and fanatics away from him a lot better. Because Alan had his own family to worry about, and with ENCOM trying to find a way to take itself fully out of the hands of a Flynn, his godfather had not been able to always be there when those of the Flynn Lives group, or reporters hoping to get some scandal would find him when he walked or biked anywhere. Would he have been as leery of others growing up if he had been sheltered a bit more from the world in regards to his missing father?

It didn’t seem to really matter much anymore and that odd fuzziness to his memories of life outside the Grid was easy to ignore and forget about. He was certain if it was anything really wrong that CLU would have noticed by now as he looked over and learned the difference between a user and program in their identity disks.


	2. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn did try and get his son back, but no was the answer given by both sides.

It was a surprise, but not one that he hadn’t been expecting.

“The cycles have not been kind at all to you, dear _User_.”

The face on the screen really had not fared well over the many cycles that had gone by. It had aged, and had lost the vitality and mobility that had once made you believe anything he told you. Instead it was care worn and devoid of hope masking itself as quiet contemplation. It was actually enough to make him smile with a bit more edge even as his creator attempted to bargain, to reason, and even demand that he stop whatever he was doing and give Sam back. He even attempted to negotiate with him, something that would be amusing to show to the young user when he was certain that young Sam would only notice the bartering for him like some good or service and not the fact that his father was almost desperate in his attempts to get his son. Though, not desperate enough in all regards, after all he denied the only two things he would have considered letting the user go for.

Oh he never expected an easy handing over of the disk that would allow him access to the very foundation of the Grid, places that not even his pet user could get to. Code that only the creator would be able to touch and manipulate. It was the only thing keeping him from fully creating the perfect system, and what was keeping Flynn and his little group of rebels and refugees that had flocked to him hidden from sight. He had even anticipated the sudden sharpening of eyes as they stared at him, trying to see what trick he was attempting to pull with such a request. The fear plain as day when it finally hit Flynn that his sudden and reflexive refusal could have easily cost him his son right then and there, as if he was just waiting for him to give an order and a Black Guard, or even Rinzler for the added twist of the knife to drag Sam into the room and have him be derezzed right then and there. It would have been tempting when this all first began, when he still wanted to get rid of the User from his sight and go on with his original plan to leave the Grid and enter the User world that Flynn had been so desperate to get back to in the beginning. However, that plan and motive had died out as the light of the portal flickered and finally faded away as he and his creator sat in a stalemate. Each side waiting for the other to make a deciding move in this game that had sat stagnate and unmoving for so many cycles. However, when the light had faded away, and took the last chance of leaving the Grid away from all of them CLU had thought and actually stopped trying to make Flynn rouse from his little hidden sanctuary.

He had been given a lot to think about when his last offer had been turned down. Made him realize that to truly get revenge over Flynn and his siding with the ISOs was not as he had been handling things. No, he would take everything that his creator held dear and have them flourish under his control. To prosper because of him and not Flynn. He already had taken the Grid, and Tron was only a memory really as Rinzler took over and thus he had taken Tron, to have Sam see him fully as the only one to listen to…to take away Flynn’s son and have the young User _want_ to remain would be the greatest coup of all. Flynn would have nothing left but his suppose miracle and plans.

_”You could easily go home and be able to catch up with your son. He’s grown quite a bit since you talked about him that day. Just leave the ISO that you are protecting. You and your son will be free to go.”_

_“…No.”_

Was he still waiting for a miracle to save him? Or did he finally see all probabilities lead to his defeat, and thus he had just given up hope. It was something to ponder as he figured out how to make a User obey him and him alone.


	3. Training Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets beat up, but for a good cause...in his mind.

There was suddenly a burst of the coppery taste of blood in his mouth as his head started ringing.

His sight whited out for a brief moment and when it finally cleared he found himself staring up at that mirrored helmet that he was beginning to dread seeing, and not for the reason he had dreaded it in the first place. No that fear of being killed was gone and was actually a hope now, instead of this odd torture he was going through. He was certain Rinzler was either mocking him or was just as exasperated with this as he was. He was just lucky CLU had told his enforcer that killing or permanently maiming him was not allowed, or else that last blow would have taken his arm.

He got back up and settled into a defensive position again.

It had actually been his idea in the beginning when he had realized just how much time and concentration would be needed to do anything significant in regards to being a User on the Grid. Which would make using such abilities to protect himself end up being a bad idea, especially if he got jumped or surprised. CLU’s answer to this was to have him learn how to use his disk without dropping it as he almost had done on several occasions. The entire Rinzler aspect had been his stupid pride and mouth working together without consulting his brain. If he wasn’t certain that the program was possibly finding some sort of amusement in all of this, he would have called a halt to it all after spending far too long as a walking bruise after that first session. Instead he just gritted his teeth, and stubbornly kept throwing himself into these matches as if his life depended on it.

Considering everything, that may not be that far off in reckoning.


	4. Modifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clu thinks about the slow process of learning how to change a User

He had made his first modification right there as the user had stared at him believing he was Flynn, and not realizing the actual truth of who he was just yet.

There wasn’t really all that much he could do to a User’s disk. Nothing as grand as rectifying him to be completely loyal to him like he had done many a times already to Basics. As much as that would have greatly helped the path his little epiphany in regards to the user, he had to settle for doing things a little more round about and less efficient. Small things here and there, a slight experimental tweak there, a word or two here, and the inherently instable coding did the rest for him. It was odd how much more fluctuating and almost brittle seeming some of Sam_Flynn’s coding appeared compared to the few times he had seen his creators own coding. Almost as if the precious son was faulty in some way. A way that he could use to his own advantage, as he only needed to give it an opportunity to fail on its own and collapse certain aspects that made him far more malleable. Made him listen and accept his words as the only truth easily, question everything less, to distance himself from the thoughts and memories that would cause everything CLU had been weaving to come crashing down. 

Oh, he was not as confident to say that what he had done would keep or remain solid. 

It was like patches on a fluctuating system, only able to hold so much of its shape before the pressure would warp and change it, or delete it fully. Thus, he knew that he would have to tread carefully in regards to what would cause such reactions and deep thought with the user. The less he had to question or think about, the more what CLU had done would be able to hold and build a foundation for him to work on. Until that time when he did not worry of suffering a severe setback in his modifications and experimentations to the strange and complicated, yet paradoxical in its simplicity as well coding that made up a user. Erase a line here, or truncate another there while merging this one with that. Time consuming and frustrating at times, especially as he could not do too much at once or he would likely break the user or change something he didn’t want to change in his experiments. A very unfortunate thing if he was not careful in what he did or did not touch, as there was no real way to back up a user to his knowledge.

Yet, it would all be worth it in the end. When the user bowed his head fully to his command.


	5. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's sense of time is starting to change and shift.

There was a sensation of falling.

It was an infrequent feeling and seemed to pass just as quickly as it would appear. Leaving behind an almost emptiness in the back of his head. He had noticed it for a long time, but the longer and longer it happened the less he seemed to care about it. Now it was like a good thing, something to look forward to, for each time it happened CLU would pat him on the back or shoulder like some proud parent. Like he had passed some unknown barrier that he couldn’t see, but CLU did and was praising him for overcoming it. He also noticed it happened a bit more regularly after he had learned and mastered another part of controlling the Grid. Making it seem even more likely that it was some sort of obstacle in becoming a User that could proudly claim to be there for the Grid.

He had also started losing track of time, well not time in the system but outside of it. When the portal had still be open he could easily feel it somehow that barely hours had passed by while he was experiencing days inside. Then, after the portal had closed that sense of outside time had slowly began to disappear. It should have worried him, because he had no clue how long he had been here inside the system. Or just how long he before he was missed. Alan always worried and this all started with him and that pager, he would check. How long though would it take for him to see that he was still there in the arcade, when his bike was likely stolen or impounded and the lights and games still on.

Someone likely looted the place by now or had called the cops to secure the building again. Which would just make it even longer before someone possibly would find the grooves that showed you could move that one particular console. Even longer for whomever it is to figure out just what dad had done. They may have to get Roy or even Lora involved. Which would be a lot more time he would lose inside of here. Though he should tell CLU of this, Alan and Roy were not as headstrong as he is _was_ in regards to pushing buttons. They also knew the stories as well, they would make the leap faster then he did. Might even work on the Grid from their side, which would be a problem if they changed something that didn’t fit with what CLU was doing.

It never crossed his mind that he should be worried about the lack of will to go back.


	6. Reoccurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares from childhood sometimes resurface in adulthood

Sam had been free of nightmares since he had been fourteen.

_It was a question of what or who, but there was no answer for whatever it was that was out there. Something that was far from pleasant. It followed and watched, stalking them as they moved from one dimming safe area to the next. Just out of reach, but close enough for its presence to be felt on each and every nerve like charged needles on skin. Following them down into the aspects of unconsciousness that humans always struggled against before._

_It did not attack those it hunted. In the end, it really didn’t need to as nerves frayed and sanity unraveled as the constant watch, and on edge feeling did the work for it. Just the act of being there and potentially willing to attack, to corrupt the very nature of those it was stalking. A formless fear that had made up the monsters in closets and underneath the beds, while making those who learned not to believe in such things worry about events and circumstances that were out of their hands._

For Sam the resurfacing of the old fear was that of being watched by something. It was an odd thing, but nightmares never really made sense to begin with. A lot of the school counselors and therapists he had been shuffled to over the years had tried to pin it on being always in the news some way or another as people debated what would become of ENCOM. Then they would slip into labeling him an attention seeker, which just threw their first theory out the window in regards to the reoccurring nightmare. None of them just thinking it was a childhood habit like needing a light on to sleep, of course if they had done that they wouldn’t have been able to collect more and more money from his grandparents. Though his teen years gave a lot more for them to pick and dissect in regards to what was likely wrong with him. And the nightmare was forgotten for the most part, buried somewhere in his mind and never resurfaced again.

It was odd how it suddenly came back here in the Grid.


	7. Abduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam was a bit rebellious in the User world, that doesn't change in the Grid even if others want him dead or something.

The first attempt had been a crude sort of snatch and grab.

He had questions that words couldn’t fully answer about the Grid, the fact he felt like a teen again when he was told to _stay_ put and not leave the sight of the Black Guard was what had him showing how much a user could do even when they were out of their depth in such a place. Though he would never try leaving a building that way again without double checking how high up he was and if there was anything to safely land on. (Learning how to roll with his falls was a saving grace.) Regardless of how he had done so, he had slipped those that were watching him and was roaming about the streets of the city, only now he knew what was going on and he didn’t have to worry about being snatched up by a rectifier. 

He didn’t count on being snatched up by some program randomly.

One moment he had been poking around what looked like a club or such, and the next he was grappling with someone trying to drag him into some barely lit back street. Muffled voice saying they were going to take him to his father, stop fighting and hurry up before they were noticed. Normally he prided himself on being able to think on his feet, but he was not like some trained fighter and so it took him far longer than it should have to fight back and get his mind to work properly again from that sudden change in everything. The questioning his assailant didn’t really go over well as they kept trying to make him shut up and follow him. That was the wrong thing really to do, especially when this was all just something out of a bad action movie, really it was. This didn’t even seem to faze the helmeted (He was really starting to develop a knee jerk reaction to any black suited programs that obscure their face) program as it insisted on trying to drag him towards a vehicle despite him dragging his heels into the ground and throwing the hands off several times.

If it would have devolved to fists and brawling on the streets Sam never would find out as he had only a moment to register the rrr before Rinzler was there and the program attempting to kidnap him was fleeing out into the Outlands. While Black Guards seemed to swarm out of the shadows to surround and escort him back to CLU. Where he was given a lecture on just what some of those on the Grid would do to a User if they could get a hold of one and why it was important for Sam to stay within certain restrictions for his own safety.

He went out again.


	8. Forced Coexistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam in a locked room was bad, Sam in a locked room with Rinzler was also bad.

It was a bit hard to get into a staring match with someone whose face you couldn’t see.

This of course did not stop Sam as he sat in the sparsely decorated room and over at the only other person sharing the space. There clearly was not enough going on in regards to the Grid if CLU had trapped him in here with _Rinzler_ of all programs. There had to be something for the enforcer to do that didn’t involve being in the same building, let alone the same room as him. (And no he was not going to let that little voice that sounded like him when he was seven have any say so in this either. Even if Rinzler was Tron in a way.) Yet despite this here he was, in a secured room, with the silent in all but that odd rumbling whirr, enforcer of CLU. If this was one of those odd dramas his grandmother used to watch he would start to think this was some sort of effort to make the two get used to each other and become ‘friends’.

That was a thought that was a bit disturbing as, he wasn’t really all that clear on what socializing for the program would be. For all he knows being made to sport black and blue bruises was a sign of friendship from this particular _and likely insane_ program. Thus the staring match that had been going on for far too long in regards to this impromptu lockdown. Really whoever decided to perform some sort of attack now had really bad timing if they were trying to accomplish something. There wasn’t even a game going on to distract everyone so whatever the point was for those who had attacked a rectifier it was pretty much a lost cause when it ended so quickly. It had ended a millicycle ago, and yet here he was not allowed to leave and under watch. Add to the fact that he was not used to such downtime stillness, and you had a bored User in a room with a dangerous program that could decapitate him before he even thought of moving. 

This meant antagonizing the program with teenaged theatrics he hadn’t used since Alan had forced him on bed rest after breaking a leg. It involved a lot of staring, finger tapping, and twitching. It was like seeing how long he could keep a bleeding limb in a shark tank before either losing it or needing to pull it out to not lose it. Only the shark in this game had no glass barrier involved, unless one counted the fact that CLU had given strict orders that he was to not be derezzed. Someone’s sanity would give if they didn’t call off this safety breach soon, or at least needed Rinzler to assist in anyway.

He marked surviving with nothing more than a goose egg on his temple and some bruises on his back as a sign of luck and possible getting along time. He was still certain physical attacks was a friendship pact of some sort with Rinzler.


	9. Curiosity and the User

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Busy work isn't always enough to keep natural curiosity at bay

There was a list of corrupted data that was as long as he was tall.

It was only a list of things that Clu had deemed him ready enough to do on his own. Even then it was mostly looking it over in readme mode and taking note of what exactly was wrong with each line and make notations of what would be the best course of action to take with each piece. It was like the first computer science class he had ever taken when he had been a sophomore in high school. Which should have chafed against him a lot more than it really was, after all he was twenty seven, not fifteen and had pretty much grew up on computers and technology. But things were done a lot differently here, inside of the computer. He couldn’t just write or rewrite the coding, see how it works and then redo it if it was not doing what he wanted the way he wanted back on the User side of the Grid, because in here each rewrite could change things in ways that he wouldn’t be able to fix as quickly or safely. If he messed up it could break a building or cause an internal error that would derezz programs far quicker then any virus. 

This was the main reason he had meekly deferred to Clu in this regards without even a token question or resistance.

This also meant that Clu trusted him enough that he would let him move around the city. Even if it was usually in the company of a team of Blackguards or under some hood to hide his face and cover the white circuits. Though, the white circuits were becoming less of a problem as he learned to make them whatever color would be best to fit in at any time. It was a temporary thing that he couldn’t keep for long periods of time. However the length of time he had managed to master was enough for most excursions out into the city. He was hoping that in time and the longer gaps between the attempted abductions and assassination attempts would allow him to be able to go into the Outlands. It was an odd thing to want, but for some reason he knew he had to go out there personally, not by proxy through his coding. Even the sea of Simulation was off limits to him even as found himself staring out towards it with fascination. Maybe it was some odd User thing considering both were open and not fully compiled. What could and could not be done with them unknown and untapped. It was like a piece of paper being set in front of an artist with tools in hand, but not allowing them to use it just yet.

It also didn’t help that Sam had always been on to poke his nose into things and places it didn’t belong. Mostly because he was curious, and after because of the reactions this would cause in others when he did find a way into places he was told not to be. It was an unconscious reaction really, and one that seemed to be noted by CLU and those around him as they blatantly tried to make certain he was never idle long enough to give in to his curiosity and need to push boundaries by setting off into either section.

Clu seemed oddly uneasy by his curiosity of those places.


	10. That's not a regulation move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam blamed it all on being the latest gossip topic for the Grid.

He was getting tired of programs trying to figure out if he really was a User or another Sys Admin pretending to be a User on CLU’s orders. 

Debate wasn’t what was bothersome, they could do that until they stopped working for all Sam cared, it was when they decided to prove or disprove one or the other. That usually meant someone deciding to test out how vulnerable he actually was, like Users were some sort of mythical being that didn’t get hurt or make mistakes. Of course trying to tell some of the older programs this was an effort in futility and most of the time had someone trying to hush him up at the same time as take him out of range of help. All of this frustration of being ignored, and being delayed again by someone trying to prove a point in regards to him and his reason for being here was enough to make him snipe and snap back at them in turn. Until one of the programs arguing around him attempted to physically mute him.

Sam felt completely justified in biting that programs hand.

Especially as the action seemed to have struck dumb all of the programs around him. Giving him the time to scramble out of the press of bodies and down another street. Getting far enough away to hear the faint tick tick rumble that was Rinzler somewhere above him. Proving to him that despite seeming to have been alone, that if the programs had tried to kidnap or off him they would have been in for a very abrupt end to such actions.

He also could almost swear that the rrring sound was amused as well. But to acknowledge such would mean labeling their odd tolerance of one another as something else.


	11. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple statement allows things to be a little bit clearer.

_He used to talk about you guys all the time. I likely would have been jealous if I had known it was all real back then._

It had been an out of the blue statement as the user had sat on the floor a self-made console in front of him as lines scrolled past under his touch. Even Rinzler had paused for barely a flicker of a moment before continuing to leave the room. He had an urge to hit the young user, that emotional upheaval that he had managed to keep under control a cycle ago when he had first seen the user and knew what he was. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from telling the user how wrong that was because, here all Flynn had ever really talked about had been him back in the user world.

That was when it finally hit him and he almost laughed, instead managing to make it into an almost amused, bitter expression as he clapped a hand to the user’s shoulder when he had looked up at him. Yes, both of them had been second place in priorities to Flynn, more so when the ISO’s had appeared. It made how easily this had all been going that much clearer in understanding, like a missing piece clicking into its rightful place.

Clu wondered in a small part of his mind, just what would have happened if something new had caught his creator’s eye and made him ignore the ISOs as he had done to both himself and the young user.


	12. An odd occurrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fact they weren't trying to kill each other was a sign to many programs.

Either this was a sign of some sort of truce, or the Grid was going to go up in simulated flames.

The interactions between the user and Rinzler were always shaky and odd with bursts of violence every other encounter. Many who witnessed the interactions tended to think that Clu’s enforcer had some sort of hatred for the user or such and was only really holding back due to strict orders. Of course if anyone could actually read the body language and the tones of the conflicted coding that was nearly constant, they would see most times it was exasperation and annoyance that brought about the acts of violence on the user. Not that many did, or that any who were capable of such were going to let that bit of information come to light. Though no matter how you looked at it or interpreted it, the two were seemingly destined to part with something being broken and the user leaking or having discolorations upon his skin.

Which was likely why, there was an air of nervous energy that had overtaken the atmosphere and feelings of most of the programs entering and leaving the command tower at this particular moment.

Typically such would cause one to wonder if the tower was going to collapse into a pile of pixels, or if they would need to duck flying Identity Disks. (Something that started to become a semi-regular occurrence when Clu would forget to let either or both of his little followers escape close confinement with one another.) So it was actually a baffled Clu staring at Jarvis as he tried to explain just why everyone was acting as if a virus attack was imminent. The two were just sitting there in close proximity of one another. On a second glance into the room it was also confirmed the two were in fact within striking distance of one another. Both quietly sitting on a couch that had not been there before, which meant the user had created it. Neither seeming at all upset by the circumstances or even acknowledging the feelings of the other programs roaming about.

It was an arrangement that he had been trying to get to, for what felt longer then just a cycle. Especially in regards to the balancing act that was tweaking Rinzler’s already jagged and volatile coding to allow just enough of his original programing out, without it gaining enough of a foothold to create unnecessary complications. Especially as that base coding was useful in its own way, now that he had a pet user to march around and flush out the various rebels that had been waiting and hoping the creator would appear again. A test in patience as the inherent personality of the user seemed to clash every which way with that of his Enforcer, even when he did let more of Tron flavor the actions and reactions of Rinzler.

The only thing that was puzzling to him was the _how_ of it. As they had not been even remotely close to such a truce the last time he had seen them, and had not been trying to stop the changes that someone from _out there_ was trying to implement. Hopefully whoever this meddlesome user was would give up in time and he could go back to only worrying about the internal problems.

A centicycle later, Rinzler and the user were glaring at one another from opposing ends of the room again. It had been nice and quiet while it had lasted.


	13. Third Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside forces begin to show interest in the Grid

There had been a lot more instabilities popping up within the infrastructure of the Grid. 

Most of the problems were small and easily handled, the multiplying effect they seemed to have was what the main problem was as it had everyone with even an ounce of permission to work on the coding working in tireless shifts to keep them at a manageable level. This meant that Sam was spending several millicycles compiling the same data over and over again to catch any new error that would slink its way into it. It was odd though, how a lot of these sudden attacks were only hitting specific areas of the Grid. The fact the security systems were the hardest hit had put most of them on high alert, and had Rinzler pulling more patrols for any rebel programs hoping to use this as an opportunity.

For the most part the majority of the city had no clue of any of this, any small corruption that they didn’t stop quickly enough was easily explained away and thus panic was avoided. It didn’t mean that it was a small matter in the long run. Spending this much time worrying about two different fronts was going to end horribly at some point, but Sam couldn’t really explain why he felt this way, and why he always found himself staring out at the sea of simulation when he managed a few breaths of rest from rebuilding fragmented code. All he was really certain was that he felt there was some justification for Clu to push him to figure out how to create programs while on the grid. There was a way to do it, Clu had admitted that was how he had been created, but that had been when the Grid was still being made, and out in the Outlands.

The amount of energy that would be needed to create enough programs with high enough clearance to help was almost too much that they could readily give. It was why they were instead playing catch up as they ran the numbers several more times to see if there were was a way to decrease the amount needed without losing the calculating power that they would need. Which was turning out to be possibly doing such creation in batches and reinforcing the internal structure in between each group, while hoping that whoever was attempting to take over on the user side would not make a harsher push when Sam was otherwise preoccupied.

In a small corner of his mind, he wondered when the light of the portal would be seen again.


	14. Proclamation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> User's say odd things when delirious and suffering blood loss. Or perhaps it is profound?

There was blood pooling and drying on the floor of the main control tower. 

It was a liquid and color that wasn’t ever really seen on the Grid, it made many of the sentry programs uneasy as they looked at it. Even as the user who was leaking it all over the floor seemed to be seeing things the rest of them couldn’t see. Hands slicked and dyed that odd color, pressing cloth to the wound as the face paled with each second that passed. Most programs had no idea how to deal with an injured user, and Rinzler had barely retained the memories of such to be useful in this regard as well. Too much emotional power behind such memories to be safely kept, which left only one who knew what to do, as Clu leaned down and over the prone form. Bright blue eyes seeming even brighter as they had no real focus staring back up. He wondered what the young user was seeing or thinking about in his corrupted state.

It had taken an entire milicycle to stabilize the user without accidentally destroying something vital in him. He would still be useless for anything more taxing then that odd sleeping action that users did for a while still, but it was enough to remove him from the room. So that the stains could be erased and only those who had seen could remember the dark red that had flowed like dulled and corrupted energy from the user’s side. Just as he was about to leave and go back to work that was pressing as well in regards to this latest attack, he was stopped by a weak grasp to his sleeve. Slippery and barely there, but somehow with enough force to stop all of them from moving as overly bright eyes looked up at him.

The blue sharpening and becoming clear in a way they had not been since the user had stumbled into his grasp, unknowing and unsuspecting of what was in store for him.

He expected some sort of accusation, an epiphany that he was not as nice as he pretended. That the user had finally noticed what he had been slowly building and editing with each access of that identity disk. Even just a claim that it wasn’t Rinzler’s fault this happened. All of them spread thin and far out due to two enemies attacking from various sides. After all that would be the sort of odd logical leaps that could be reached in the user, in this son of Flynn. What he got was something he still did not understand and left him wondering what it meant, especially considering the conviction in that tone used when the statement had been made. Likely just erratic thought patterns caused by the damage that rebel had done in an attempt to ‘save’ the user from him.

_”He made you into Atlas.”_


	15. Old God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time in the Grid that Sam had met the Creator/his father.

It was almost jarring to see the difference that twenty years could create on someone he had once thought of as invincible. 

The lines and weathered looks a far cry from the man that had told him about a place of neon lights and a program that would go against any odds for the users. It wasn’t even that he had forgotten just how much time could change someone, because despite his lapse in mistaking Clu for him that first moment back when he had first arrived, it wasn’t really the youth or the face that had done it. The eyes were not the same in his father. The spark of life and sense that nothing could ever get him down was gone when he looked at the man that had appeared finally amidst the rebels. Not even the cloak and hood he wore able to hide the fact he was a user, his very presence seeming to give that away as all looked at him.

It would have been awe inspiring to Sam, to see what someone who knew what they were doing here, seeming to instinctively grasp and understand the humming and moving code that made up everything here. In another time and life it would have been the greatest thing he would have seen on the Grid.

If it wasn’t for the eyes.

The eyes looked so defeated and old. As if nothing going on would have ever been enough to bring hope back to them. A fallen god in a world he had created, but had lost control of. This Kevin Flynn was not the same one that had left on a Ducati and disappeared for two decades, it was not the father that he had kept searching for and hoping to see again. 

Sam turned away and didn’t look back. He had work to do to keep ‘the creator’ from overtaking anything if he had finally decided to fight back.


	16. Useful Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam_Flynn is a complication on an already complicated chess board, but he's useful.

A user bleeds, they need to breath, and they are notoriously finicky in regards to how they can be repaired when they are damaged.

They were abstract lessons Clu had learned long ago when he had still followed Flynn. Things that had been curiosity, but not really important when there was an entire world to build and maintain…a perfect system to create. After all Flynn was the Creator, seemingly able to create anything he wanted or needed both inside the Grid and out of it however it was that he did so from the user world. Things that he had to search deep in his memory for when he found himself having to play host and nice with a different user then he had first learned these lessons from. In a way what he had learned were the same, but in many other ways it was as if he had known nothing about the one that had created him.

A frustrating puzzle that made constructing plans and scenarios all the more complicated than they really needed to be due to the almost glitch like way a user’s mood and definitions of the world could change. There was really no real way to measure and predict this son of Flynn that would allow him to keep track, stay a step ahead in how to deal with him and keep him on his side, believing what he wants him to believe. A task that at times is enough to make him give up and just fall back on dangling the user out into the open and wait for Flynn to finally make a move in this changed game, until he saw the _possibilities_ that were now open to him. The way that he could make so much more efficient and actually work the way he envisions it to work. For despite all that he has been able to do, a system administrator can only do so much with what is available, where a User can create what is needed if there is no viable alternative. 

It made it much easier to handle the setbacks, the need to hide or change how he proceeded in certain aspects of controlling the Grid. Ways that were overly obtuse or inefficient so as not to call attention to certain aspects of his rule that would cause the user to back away, to fight the slight modifications he was able to give and make semi-permanent in the user’s perplexing code. It would all work out in the end though, and he would be the one with the victory and the means to prove he was able to complete his objective. 

Without the aid of Flynn.


	17. The Wait and Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam had waited for his father since he was seven, maybe it was time he stopped waiting

Sam had not intended to be as he was now.

Deep in his mind that still recalled how he had felt when he had first found himself looking up at an eternal night sky as a Rectifier came down to collect him thinking he was a rogue program there was still that odd hope. Despite the uneasy first few millicycles as a ‘guest’ of Clu and awaiting that to change considering the arena he had still hoped in a way. Still waited for some sign, some hint that his father was out there and would show himself. Would come out of an alleyway and go “Hey, kiddo. Been a while.” Before they would both head back to the user world, back home to everyone else.

The more that time went on and not even a whisper of the creator, of Kevin Flynn had been found the hope had stopped whispering in the back of his mind each time a new decision had to be made in staying or finding a way out. The notion of asking to contact Alan again to find him and get him out of the grid also falling away along with the hope. With it the rationalizing had started up and thinking about what he had there and what he had here.

The guilt of leaving so abruptly was the only reason it still moved around in the back of his mind.

After all what did he really have back home aside from Marvin and three people that he had been practically raised by? A shipping container house on the river, ENCOM stock and a CEO position he didn’t want…expectations and judgment for being the child of Kevin Flynn. No job, no career, no set future that he was looking forward to, not even a goal outside of fixing up a run down Ducati. In fact everything he had was somehow his because of his father, shaped by his father or by his legacy left for him to pick up after his disappearance. That is all he really would be back home, what he had _made_ himself into in his crusade for someone to tell him he wasn’t alone, that Flynn Lives was truth and not a wish.

Where here in this strange world of neon lights and a society that moved in different ways to home, he was a User. He would consider himself just one, but with the rarity of such within the system it was something of a special label, even the Son of Flynn moniker wasn’t really prevalent. The concept of Son was lost to most programs and was just another name really much as they would use Creator for his father. There were many things he had to learn, he could do that only one other there could do. In a way he was wanted for what he could do, and not who he was related to.

It was easy to fall into something stable in the Grid and slowly let go of the hope and dream that had been his father.


	18. Different Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was odd how conflicted his own mind seemed at times when he wasn't expecting an interrogation.

_He’s wrong, he’s wrong…that isn’t right…there has to be a better way to do that. Why did he really go after the ISOs?_

The program had barely been coherent in his questions, in his yelling and accusations. As if he didn’t have enough time, and that if he was forceful enough in saying them then whatever message he was trying to give would sink in faster, make more sense with each word said in that harsh tone. In some part of Sam’s mind the message was received the questions looked at and an answer was attempted to be found…but it was like thinking in a fog almost. The moral parts of the answer being whitewashed as more logical reasons came forward first. Like excuses as he seemed to watch himself reply and react to what was being said.

_Not me, that’s not how I act is it?_

Even as another part half helped and half hindered both sides in being in control, because yes some of the things that Clu had done, that he was still doing were not right, were not the best way to treat those he was supposed to be over seeing, but he _was_ changing. Clu was not as bad as he had first been all that time ago when he had been dropped into the arena, it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows, but it wasn’t programs being hunted down in the streets. There was still a lot that was not right, but he was still grasping and learning about this society and what was and was not acceptable. Little things that could add up to change the outlook of something he was seeing into a different picture.

_How much is the same as your user world, and how much was created without such an influence?_

The roiling and conflicting thoughts were often times too much to handle and sometimes he stopped and worried, and wondered what it all meant because this should all be straightforward, he should pick a side in the questions, in the debates, the arguments and odd looks, choose and remain steadfast with what he had decided. He had never wavered on such things before. At least he does not think he did, not openly or outwardly. 

_It’s all right just stop and collect your thoughts again, it will make sense in time._

The black guard had found them before he had anytime to formulate an answer to the program that had started talking to him. Spooked he had left, fleeing into the many dark passages that weaved in and out of the city. Sam hadn’t even gotten a look or feel of what or who the program was to figure out if he had ever met him before.

_No need to worry about such, things to do…fixing the grid won’t happen if you just stand there. You have purpose here, a use that you want to have. To feel needed._

He had all but forgotten what it was that the program had felt so adamant in way laying him as he had done.


	19. Circuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something always made him stand out, even when he tried to blend in.

The coloration had been the biggest problem.

White, white was everywhere on the grid but yet for some reason it just seemed more noticeable on him. Like there was something different about the way the circuit color looked to programs when they saw it. Even when he had changed out of Arena armor to the normal program wear it was still eye catching. Circuit design shifting, clothing changes, even a brief stint hiding his face had not helped. He still seemed to be different, not right, didn’t belong on the grid. It had driven him up the wall in trying to figure out just _why_ this was the case. Then he had noticed something when standing next to a sentry, only to have it confirmed when he had held his arm flush next to one of Rinzler’s to compare. (The bruise to the temple had been worth it.) 

His circuits just seemed brighter somehow, like the glow he gave off was more intense than that of the Basics running around. Even Clu did not seem as bright in comparison. He had spent what seemed like far too much time attempting to dim the natural glow of his circuits. Oftentimes the frustration of seemingly not able to do so enough to make him see just how far he could go with the bare minimum of circuits to pass as a program. Only for such to backfire as the minimum amount of circuits on dark clothing was somehow even more noticeable then a plethora of them as his arena suit had given him when he first appeared here. It was almost seeming to be a lost cause in regards to passing through the city without being stopped every few feet by a curious program. Then in an odd frustrated moment he had shifted the color. It wasn’t something he had idea that he could do at first, because of how colored circuits were such a defining trait to programs.

He learned through experimenting that an almost white blue was the least attention grabbing shade, and became a default color for him when he needed to move about.


	20. Code Sweep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A study of names and idle time.

He had seemingly acquired a lot of names, and labels since he had settled onto the Grid. 

Pseudo names were a dime a dozen when it came to his excursions into the city, masquerading as a random program, the slurs were also in abundance when he was in the vicinity of a rebel when he was not hiding himself and was blatant in showing he was the User who followed Clu. ‘Kiddo’ was a rare and cherished one. Entire cycles could go by before he ever heard it, sometimes when he expected it, it was never uttered and other times it was used seemingly out of nowhere. Often times he could see a sharpness in the gaze, as if the system admin was studying his reaction for something, whatever it was he was never really certain about.

Especially as it was the same look that he would get when he would feel a bit muddled in his mind, would mistake him for someone else. Call him a designation that he knew wasn’t meant for him, but seemed to fit like a slightly bent wire hooking into a locking mechanism like a makeshift key. It usually brought about a code sweep because he was fatigue when those odd slips would happen, thus it was always a good idea to let Clu check, make certain the slight error was nothing that would accumulate into slow down, make him even more fogged in his thinking process and seeing flashes of another place that seemed familiar but was not as important in his priorities.

Code sweeps were tedious and a bit unnerving to be oddly disconnected from himself in such a way.

He had to be occupied by something during such sessions, a readme file of his next project, a puzzle that he had constructed from faded memory, even just collapsing and reassembling an object. A side effect of being a user, of not having an idle stand by state in which to be left in while being aware and conscious of the world around him, it also kept him from fidgeting and trying to see what Clu was doing to stave off the boredom and empty feeling he was never going to get used to. Sometimes the sweeps would seem to drag on seeming to never end and he was going to flip out from the lack of his disk. Other times it was almost as if he had never had his disk undocked in how swift of a sweep that Clu would perform. Time of course was odd and fluid when he was in such a state of being that he could never really say for certain on such until after it was over.

Those were the times when he would receive the clap to the shoulder and the smile, and that word of praise.

_You did fine kiddo._


	21. Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serious injury causes a slight malfunction.

It’s almost like a pull and twist deep within your chest, like someone has taken your heart and lungs and rearranged them while you are conscious but so high on medication you can’t feel the agony. Just the low deep thrum of the pain awaiting you when the fogged state was gone.

He didn’t want to **wake up** reboot, because he could feel the injuries just waiting to clamor and make him regret surviving whatever it was that had ended up with him in **the hospital?** this state. Seeing the black **why isn't it blue?** sky of the grid above made him realize just where he was how **near escaping** vulnerable he likely was out here. Then there were sentries the red **not right not right** circuits a sign that it was okay and he **fell unconscious** powered down again.

It was blurry and stark and familiar **not safe here get out run** and suddenly there was a presence he knew as **Alan please be Alan** Clu appeared over him. Face still reserved and neutral as always, constant **mask** and safe, eyes sharpening and the smile one he knew but did not like to see all that often. **He was plotting, won’t show it** He knew something was wrong with him the odd thoughts, fragments of something not **is** him, and he was **defiant** ashamed because it meant he had failed in some way to cause such an error in his coding.

“Something is wrong isn't it, kiddo.”

 **Wrong, don’t call him that not right** Relief.

He was glitching, and it was an error something else was influencing his coding **thoughts** in ways that didn't fit **were how he was supposed to think** with what he knew was right. **All lies** It didn’t matter though now because Clu would fix **erase** the meddlesome thoughts that kept popping up now after that spectacular failure of a mission to the Outlands. **Almost free just a little longer out there would have been enough, they came too quickly.**

“We’ll get you fixed up in no time, kiddo. You users so chaotic and contradictory makes keeping you in tune with system for such long periods hard, but everything’s okay the challenge is part of the appeal.”

The disk slid back into place and his head was blissfully silent again.


	22. Practice, Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrolling means sometimes finding things odd, like a non homicidal Rinzler.

Sector 23 clear, Sector 24 clear, Sector 25…

It wasn’t all that uncommon that those who had patrol duty within arena area would come across certain programs, especially Clu’s enforcer, and lately the pet user as well. Rare though was to see them in close proximity outside of the actual arena training grounds that had fallen into disuse when the Games had been refurbished to be used as the final punishment for rebel programs. Yet there was the dischord of conflicting data and the frequency of circuit light that was Rinzler and that almost too bright in intensity light that the user gave off.

Forward block left side, right grip to punching wrist, weight shift, arm bent, and push. 

The user tumbled gracelessly down and into a wall, the impact a harsh thud showing that the force behind the movement had not been lessened in a way to stave the feedback in circuits of error messages, but not at full pixelating strength at all. Dazed eyes, that oddly intense blue the user sported blinking back into focus and the user is up again and moving towards the enforcer who had not moved even an inch after sending the other to the floor. Same opening moves only the user tries for a block to keep the grab from happening and suddenly left leg up and the user is knocked back by a kick to the midsection. 

Trial, repeat, fix, repeat, fix. 

It’s an old repetition that was there deep in the coding of all security programs. That impulse to learn and repetition until movements synch and reaction time is marked down. Make it smooth, make transitions seamless, cut energy consumption via each movement down by finding the points in which part of the motion can be erased to make it all move quicker and smoother. Efficiency that could mean the difference between a derezz or survival especially in the middle of a virus or gridbug infestation. A system that had fallen out of use for the most part, something archaic and old. Shadows of a time when there was no grid and there had been another user that walked the halls.

Up again repeat, several repetition adjustments managed, still an error. 

The user should be pixelating if he was a program by now as another harsh drop to the ground happens to him. A testimony to the odd durability of users when not even that disconcerting red liquid is absent from the various dull circuit areas, areas darkened by the intense impacts and jostled coding of the user’s physical make up from each harsh throw to the ground. Yet it’s not as violent, not as aggressive as it would normally be with Rinzler involved. Almost as if it was an afterthought, these movements, uncaring that there was someone making him react in such a way. There was no thought in the routine, it was automatic the enforcer was for all intents and purposes indulging the user while looking over some map of suspected rebel locations.

Then both paused the user is called away, Clu has a task for him and Rinzler is left to wait for the next Disk War, for the next rebel hunting mission. Rinzler once more a silent and waiting piece of the scenery.

Sector 34 clear, Sector 35 clear, Sector 25 clear.


	23. Culture Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Users and Programs are different in a lot of ways.

_Did you ever stop and wonder if anything would have changed if I had died in the disk war game?_

If he ran his fingers a certain way over a specific patch of his skin he can still feel the slight upraised roughness of the scar from that disk slicing into him. The memory is still fresh and comes back sharp and clear and all the confusion and terror rears up leaving him stunned for a few moments as he sees in double vision of now and then. The first time it had happened and it was mentioned to Clu there had been that sharpening of a look and an odd twist to the smile. Sharp edge, almost worse than all those pictures of teeth baring snarls of creatures in the night, because there was something there that was not human, not organic about it.

It was one of many things that would make him reel back and realize that the ones he saw, talked to, interacted with were not people. Were made of code and lines of data in a computer. That he was the odd one, the alien piece in this little isolated world and city. Even compared to his father, to Flynn the Creator he was not right, didn’t fit what they expected. There was far too many similarities that made each difference more jarring and dissonance to his mind when he found them. Everything didn’t follow the same rules that he knew, his definitions were not always matched with their definitions. New vocabulary, new culture, new way of looking at every single thing in this place and seeing it both as a user and how a program would see it. Learning how to fit in and not draw attention, but there were just reactions and thought processes that would jar the attempt.

It was why he had to watch for long periods of time to learn and copy what he was seeing, and each time he got it right, managed to keep up the charade seemed to please Clu. It was a shift in thinking in the way he acted, but it made things much easier to stay. To stop being the user who had stumbled in here with nothing but childhood tales and a dim hope. Leaving it behind to be a part of the system in his own way. Almost as if he was just a specialized program in a way.

_Or would you have never known dad?_


	24. Warnings Unheeded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories can be useful warnings if heeded and understood.

He recalled holding something an object not found in the grid.

It was solid and distinct somehow with its rectangular shape and thin fragile layers of a substance that felt odd between fingers as black typed words remained static on the pages. It was not like anything on the Grid with its flowing and glowing script and meanings layered into simple directives. Unlike the object that took far too many phrases and structures to tell something that could have been shorthanded easily. The object was inefficient and cumbersome to carry around, the data contained in it useless if one had to physically open and find the relevant sections instead of recalling such from a file.

Yet it was a memory fragment he felt the need to keep and protect, a memory of the time when he was not here working with Clu to fix things. Murmurs and whispers of things once held within the pages just out of reach and almost in grasp. Information that would change something, break through an odd block that muddled and slowed down thoughts when attempting to recall what was there became tiresome and frustrating. 

Something about eyes and hidden things waiting for chances with cruel smiles.

It was likely nonsense, _not needed, irrelevant, forget, forget, forget_ and just an odd quirk of being a user. He did have many of those as Clu would point out on occasion and there was never really much to do about them but note them and go on with his assigned duties. If they were to get in the way of said duties then he would worry and bring it to the attention of Clu. Until then it would just be an odd discordant piece of coding, a bit bothersome but not enough for any intervention.

_And like a monster hidden in the flesh of man the cold eyes stared back as the smile gave no sense of safety or peace upon the one it was bestowed on. Unwitting prey walking up to a hunter._


	25. Fluctuations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if they took him back things wouldn't go back to normal, and Compiler/Sam is not exactly thrilled by all of this either.

There were names and faces that he didn’t know.

No, that wasn’t true, he did know those names and the faces they belonged to…or would belong to if there was nothing more than static and a feeling that there was _something_ missing in his own memory banks. Things that he had overlooked and ignored as directives and that sly and slippery command told him to forget and purge such thoughts as excess data not needed. Like compressing or deleting old files to make a program operate more efficiently or have enough space for updates. A slow and systematic wipe of everything that made him whatever he had been before Clu. When he had been a User fully and not a User who functioned like a program.

He had no luck in recovering or decompressing those memory files fully.

Some were so fragmented and jumbled up with errors and missing lines that he had to reclose them and partition them off from his main system. Others were nothing but a trace, a path of directs and files that now lead to empty folders or an error message as the file not found message appears as he attempts searching for them when manual searching leads to nothing. Even files managed to be salvaged and recreated from the corrupted originals are suspect and hazy; disorienting and confusing. So many ways that it could be fabricated, changed, enhanced, or even just fully integrated into him as a false memory labeled as true. It was dizzying and shaky, never really knowing how much is lies and what is truth. 

_Does it matter, what’s the point? Them or Him, still just an object. A tool, a use, needed but not needed in this conflict. Neither will leave you alone even if one or the other derezzes._

The questions and comments like a corrupted run time on his senses as he tries to understand why they keep repeating the same queries and commands at him despite knowing the answer.

Or at least that is how it seems as first, as slowly reactions change and the if then views begin to change. His FoF is still jittery and swings like a pendulum on a vibrating string. Old and new, and even newer views of those around him fight and shift on what he should do when someone enters his space. It makes him sometimes wish for the simpler time when everything was clearly labeled and he did not have to think for himself. They wouldn’t let him though…well most wouldn’t. Some of the programs would command him to expedite their own objectives instead of fumbling and not really knowing how to act with this broken user/program. The other users tend to become upset over such. Even when it is logical and actually a good idea because he wouldn’t trust any of them in the same situation.

He didn’t trust himself most cycles.

Didn’t think, didn’t act correctly. Discussions always a murmur of noise just out of his hearing range as they watch him. They’re always watching, one user always nearby if not within the same room as him. All with this same look as they watch him and realize how he is going to react to their presence, their words, even their actions. Or more how he does _not_ react to every aspect of stimuli they try and throw at him. There’s confusion and expected reactions of course, but they seem to want more from him. As if he should react differently or do more than what is necessary to react to each situation. He preferred to observe and catalog watching them as they watched him. Which they found wrong and it itched in a way as if some part fragmented and buried deep underneath his directives knew something that they wanted and expected.

In the long run it all didn’t really matter. He was convenient and a tool for when they needed information about Clu and his habits, and as a way for them to try and get the main prize. He knew that in this little war being waged he was not the main objective, even if the users kept trying to deny such claims. He knew, just like the programs that followed them knew, that the one who controlled Rinzler…or Tron could rally or demoralize the programs that had remained neutral through most of this. 

After all, after what User Flynn had done, and he had helped Clu with. Users would not be fully trusted ever again by most in the Grid.


	26. Painful Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew they would try and take his Identity Disc, still didn't mean he was happy about it.

Sam.

_Let me out_

It hurts

It hurts…It hurts… **Put me back**

****

PUT ME BACK

Light, pain, senses not where they belonged. Cascade effect, static. Where? Who? How?

Everything hurt, like someone had corrupted his coding and left enough of it untampered to make him understand what was going on. It hurt to move, even breath, and especially to think. So he just laid there where he had fallen and stared at the Users that were now hovering and murmuring in agitated manners behind that little clear film the Creator had invented to let them watch him but not let him overhear anything important. Something he would have once again scoffed at since they could have just sent a ping or a data packet if they didn’t want him to hear. But, that took energy he didn’t have to work through the pain to do. He couldn’t even glare to show how much he did not appreciate whatever they had tried to do in their attempt to ‘fix’ him again.

The floor was nice and even with those suppressions on his hands, numbing him and cutting him off from the flow and hum of the living code of the Grid, it was much cooler and close to that hum as he could get right now. He also had figured out how to move not as awkwardly as before when they had bound his hands in the iridescent substance to keep him from rectifying any of the Basics around them or coding an escape route when he had first tried to escape every waking moment. 

It’s an eternity or barely a few microseconds and the pain starts to recede enough for him to notice the fog and disconnected feeling, and his eyes find his Disk a few feet away.

The stab of panic and anger that usually would follow such a conclusion is missing or just oddly muted. He figures it’s the former as he had been expecting one of the users to finally give in and try and change him that way when they’re attempts to talk to him as ‘Sam’ or ‘Sammy’ failed over and over again. Clu had _**changed**_ optimized him many times, asking him to supposedly fight something that didn’t feel like it was wrong was not going to gain any results in all of this. Now he was just jagged pieces and both free and restricted with various prompts in an endless confused loop as they tried to follow their paths but were blocked or set on a new course that made no sense.

He watches instead as the users divide on whatever it is they are discussing, into a pattern that makes no sense to his logic. Yet it was something to watch and think about instead of thinking about the pretty and tidy looking prison they have him in, or the gaping silence in his mind and chest that used to be his connection to the grid. It’s a bit fascinating in a way to see them unite fully or form little factions amidst themselves for various unknown reasons. There’s also an odd tension as well in how they act towards one another. As if they are trying to act one way but have outgrown such. Like a messenger program given the add-ons to be a security program but still being a messenger at his core. It would work but would never fit well.

He wonders if he’s going mad, and if that odd bitter taste that wells up when he thinks of being blindsided and tinkered with, without a warning is going to linger.


	27. Contemplation of Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Energy was Energy, but some of the textures user put on it were not to his tastes.

There is an odd undercurrent amidst the users.

He knows he’s the reason, or part of the reason for their quick and stilted words and the overly large displays of emotions. A waste of energy Clu used to say, and even though parts of his mind that are not whimpering in pain from all of this, or baying like a lost hound for its master, he can’t help but think it is not really that far off in this case. He had gotten that way when they had first started shattering him and hoping he could put the pieces back together without losing too much of himself. Letting the emotions ebb and flow as they wished and at times they almost seemed to expect it and hoped for it. It took a lot of effort to maintain such high levels and he found himself quickly finding and coaxing the errant code that pulsed and glowed in a way that he now knew meant Clu had added it, into semi working again and muffling the emotions back down to levels he could control and handle.

Users are ineffiecient in a lot of ways, ways and habits he was slowly picking up, or relearning as it seems. Though he has yet to understand why even the Creator still wastes so much in changing and converting the energy into the textures and shapes of such items. There really was nothing wrong with just taking a glass of energy and downing it. It wasn’t like they didn’t consume liquids at all, and was just a habit and attachment to their lives outside of the grid that had them doing so. A comfort so as not to think they are trying anything new.

Lora Bradley is the one who uses such thoughts against him.

It had been odd in a way, a sense of wrongness to it that his fractured memories of before the grid felt and tried to convey past the jumbled pieces and wrecked pathways that was his entire thought process. It was off and not as it should be, even though what it should be like was hazy and barely there in his recollections. Which made the entire awkward meal a failure in a way he supposed as he never tried to consume energy in such forms again.

She never brings it up again.


	28. We were partners once...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief escape attempt brings some new thoughts about the other that had been 'tweaked' by Clu. As well as a brief meeting

He wasn’t certain if the program had been over eager to derezz or just did not want to be anywhere near the broken user. Either way he likely was never going to see that program again.

Even if he should thank the errant program for abandoning his watch when he had. Not that he was really all that eager now to run right back to Clu, though he wouldn’t mind just taking himself ‘out of the equation’ fully as he had once heard the Creator say in passing. Something he was certain none of the other users would be happy to oblige him with, and something Clu would not take kindly too as well. There was also a small corner of his divided processing that knew that if Clu did call for him he would likely still answer without thinking; so okay having him under watch even now.

He really should be taking advantage of being left alone fully for once and use it to get out, not standing here looking down onto the street below while contemplating things.

After all, it likely will be a long several cycles before he would find such events happening at the same time again, especially if the users upped their caution and thus made certain one was always in the system at all times. They would also key in to the fact that despite his own user privileges being banned by the restraints they placed on him, he still had a lot of program specific actions he could still take. Actions they didn’t seem to think of despite being surrounded by programs, or perhaps they did and never thought a user would use such limited modes. 

They never seemed to realize just how deep he had immersed himself into program thinking and behaving to hide his user status from them and the programs that followed them when he sat at Clu’s feet.

So it wasn’t hard to find the routes and barely encrypted sections that were weaker than other entrances in passcodes and requirements so that programs could come and go without being given admin level access. It was almost too easy, even as he felt a slight odd/familiar thrill as he moved through the building and avoid the few others that were still there and not currently out helping to retake or defend a contested area. Finally standing _outside_ and not surrounded by four walls even as he then quickly ducked into a dimly lit alley so as not to be seen and identified too quickly.

Now what, was the main question.

He couldn’t return to the city proper unless he wanted to find out just what Clu would do to him now. His mind balking at every scenario running through his mind and shaded even more sinister as he saw certain aspects in a more sinister light from his breaking. There was no telling if Clu would find any use for a defective user that may not fully obey him now, best not to test to see how much the admin wanted to clean up this loose end. Heading out into the Outlands would have been his first inclination, or even the Sea of Simulation. However, the softly glowing and soft, yet restrictive matter covering his hands and up to his elbows physically reminded him of how that would be a bad idea now as well. Even without the numbing and empty feeling inside his chest where the life of the grid had hummed before. Being at Basic level in his abilities and without any combat item he could use while restricted like this would have him become a gridbug snack in no time. His options were severely limited and he could feel the ticking of precious microcycles before his lead would be compromised. He would have to find a neutral sector and hope his luck and the suppression works in his favor as he could still recall his subroutines to integrate as a lost program trying to keep out of each side of the conflict. Even his bindings could be explained away if he was given enough time to cement an identity. After all there were certain programs that both sides would not want roaming freely if they could not obtain them.

It was a plan he would never see if it would fail or succeed as he stumbled upon a conflict involving Rinzler.

There was something off about the enforcer. A sense of jagged and abortive movements, the fluidness of each strike gone and time between each movement more pronounced…almost as if he is fighting two differing directives. He’s _hesitating_ on each strike. Even the programs surrounding him seem reluctant or wary of trying to finally take down the enforcer that has terrorized them for almost an entire kilocycle. It was an odd and disquieting change in an already chaotic and slippery grip on what is real and not in this entire conflict. Facts were not facts any longer the more these other users stayed and changed things, that he was starting to half expect to see the grid transform into something alien at any moment due to the whims of the power that group now held.

Perhaps his idle thoughts and speculations as he tried to figure out what these new users wanted held some truth, and they were taking what they learned from his shattering and half attempts to rebuild himself into something that wasn’t or never existed. A prototype for what they would need to do to change Rinzler into their hero. 

After all a Tron that can’t fight or seem ready to take on Clu would be useless as a rally point for the rebel cause.

It actually makes him feel an odd kinship with the program that he had spent most of his time around outside of Clu. That is likely why he just watches in silence as an explosion sends everyone in the area flying and he suddenly feels the fog and gap as his disk is separated from him. Doesn’t even struggle or even really blink as the distinct whirr of conflicting code that has always marked Rinzler, is close enough that it overtakes the other noises of chaos around. He must react in some way as Rinzler tilts his head a bit in question as he holds his disk like it wasn’t anything more important than a piece of debris, even though both of them knew how important and dangerous that little disk could be in certain hands.

He idly wonders if this is where he’ll be derezzed and his disk taken back to Clu. Or if he’ll be taken back to be personally dealt with by Clu. The panic and fear he should be feeling, or even anger or despair is missing. Just an odd sort of calm and a bit of relief is there. Because this is something he _understands_ and can predict. Rinzler had been a constant and his motives and actions easy to interpret in certain situations that were not battle. Even if the users had been somehow able to cause a disruption in the other by whatever odd means they had that may have been like how they caught him in the first place. A constant that he accepts. So he’s confused when it seems as if Rinzler is going to _break_ his disk. Which is out of the ordinary and what he wouldn’t really mind because it could mean a blank slate and a way out of this entire mess of trying to be Sam or Compiler or something in between to please whoever is trying to direct his routines.

When they take him back and he once more is staring at the same walls as before, he actually stops and thinks. Recalls an odd order back before any of them realized there were other users or that Kevin Flynn was finally acting against Clu, an order about doing whatever was necessary to keep the enemy from having an advantage. A kill order hidden in more polite terms, after all there was a lot a user’s disk could give a program that knew what to do with it.

It was still following that order, but interpreted differently and the enemy not clear in these odd blurring of once facts. If he was really being sentimental and soft he could even logic that it was an act of mercy that the enforcer had tried to pull with such a move.

Violence had been the cornerstone of whatever working relationship they had when he was a pet user for the admin.


	29. Watchers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a prisoner it's easy to gain a routine and contemplation of ones wardens

Out of the ones that he saw more or less regularly Roy_Kleinberg was the easiest one to handle he found.

The user had said he could call him by his call sign, which made it easier in a way as ZackAttack tends to be more program like then he is when he is being a user. Using pings and short commands as easily as a program and in the right instances, as well gossiping about the same things that he would overhear on any street in the city. It was easy to forget at times that ZackAttack was just an eccentric program and he wasn’t trapped in this building, this room because they couldn’t trust him, but didn’t want to treat him like an enemy at the same time.

It was far easier than dealing with user Alan_Bradley.

Every encounter seemed stilted and there was something there that he never understood, even as there seemed to be a part of the fragments that seemed to clamor and hurt every time he saw the user. He didn’t know if he wanted the user to stay or get as far away as possible when such happened as it tilted and threw more chaos and jagged memory fragments into active mode and it was hard to think and keep emotions regulated. Especially when there was that _look_ that the user tried to hide in tired eyes.

It became worse when Lora_Bradley would join as well.

Alone he could ignore the scrapping whirl of those fragments, but she oftentimes would show up at the same time as Alan_Bradley and the noise would become almost all consuming and made the sound that Rinzler would audibly produce seem soothing and calm to the cacophony in his mind. Flags of importance popping up and adding to the din because clearly whatever they contained was priority of the highest level and should be viewed _now_. Even if said pushy memories were so corrupted and broken they didn’t make sense or were snatches of a sense. A flash of color, a smell, a touch that just made it all the more confusing instead of relieving the confusion that was his mind.

It was actually a relief when the creator would make a rare and short visit to him.

Kevin_Flynn never stayed long and always seemed more concerned in finding some sort of absolution from him as he apologized and told of his reasoning for what he did or did not do. Making statements about how he sees now what a fools dream he had chased and that ‘Sam’ had been what he should have seen as the most precious. It was fascinating in a way to listen to these speeches and wonder why he was the one being told them. Even in his state and with what they have told him and he was slowly starting to believe aspects of, he did not see himself really as this Sam. Everything that was Sam was shattered and scattered that he wouldn’t mind if he never could be Sam again so long as the corruption could be fixed or erased.

Yori terrified him and he had no idea why.

She never did anything to warrant such, and was usually brisk and efficient in her dealings with him. She was actually polite and discreet in her dealings with him and not avoiding or awkwardly trying to stumble over his status as a prisoner of war. Even with her looking like a young Lora_Bradley was not the cause as he knew about the effect of programs taking after their users in such a way. There was just something that was off that he couldn’t recall, that would make sense if he could feel and sense the code like he was used to doing. She also seemed to not be in the loop as much as some of the others in certain aspects that were not in regards to the grid or aspects of this conflict. There was also a feeling of newness to her that was, but wasn’t the same as a beta coming online for the first time and made him wonder if perhaps she was a new version of a program that had derezzed before. Or was the result of a corrupted program being overwritten with fixed or new coding and thus not fully the same program as before the corruption.

It wasn’t polite to ask such of programs, so he just watched and looked for clues in that regard.

The ISO was a contradiction in his expectations.

There was the usual tense and abrupt pings and looks when the ISO, Quorra, had first been put on watch duty. After a while though they managed stilted conversations, and idle talk as they both did everything to skirt topics in regards to Clu, the purge, or what he would have likely been commanded to do if they had met when he still sat up and performed tricks on cue for the system administrator. It is likely never going to be an easy companionship, but so far she’s the easiest for him to handle as his watcher. An amusing in a way outcome, as she talks and speculates about the user world and what it would be like to be there, and he would rather find some little corner of the grid to remain in and stay undisturbed and be happy with such.

Somehow the skirting of topics begins to ease, or they’re running out of safe areas to fill the silence and somehow, someway he listens as she talks about the parts of the coup that she knew. Of Abraxas and a silent beta security program that had helped keep her functioning during all of that. Neither one wanting to say out loud the obvious answer to the fate of this Anon. Never saying he hoped the beta had derezzed then as likely if he had been found and was not too damaged rectified and made into a Sentry or Black Guard. That if so there could be a chance that she had watched his pixels scatter to the ground as she dealt the final blow on him and would never know. 

Instead he talks about his attempts to see how far he can push Rinzler and the training that left him black and blue, and for a while it’s enough of a distraction as long as both of them don’t think or let themselves remember that Rinzler would likely derezz them both due to orders from Clu.

There are other programs that parade through, but rare for them to take watch shift twice. Except for one who makes a part of Sam that he _knows_ is him and him alone with no tampering or ‘fixes’, that makes his hidden hands flex and itch as he wants to fix and correct the angry jagged bits of codes from the scar heavily obscuring facial features. The program rarely speaks and at any other time he would likely be intimidated by the man who seems frustrated by programs he has to train into fighting forces, but he is distracted from being overly wary of the gruff program because he needs to _fix_ him but he can’t.

That sort of wound likely digs and needles painfully and erratically so he would never be able to fully become use to it and thus block it out like a steady hum. The program never acts or mentions such, and he’s certain even if he could convince him that he would behave and not try to escape or rewrite him, if he let him fix it he has a feeling the program wouldn’t be able to override the users and take the bindings off.

He’s also certain he has likely refused many offers to have it fixed from one of the other users, and it makes him wonder why the program wishes to keep such.


	30. Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yori still is a mystery to him, and that never did sit well with him, since he had to know everything going on around him to do as Clu wanted.

His terror at the program Yori was somewhat justified.

He wasn’t certain for the reason or what had caused it, but the users had all returned to their world, and for the first time since he had been ‘relocated’ to their side of this conflict...the grid was without the presence of any other user. Even the creator had gone, which was a relief in more than one way as he allowed himself to shudder and actually go through the chaotic mess of feelings that he had suppressed to remain in control after their failed attempt to take him out of the grid.

_Pain, scattering, up, down, confusion, bereft._ He had been too busy relishing in the fact he was still functioning and hadn’t lost too many bits of his processing capabilities to follow the heated debate and questions on why he did not end up going through as easily as he should have. He didn’t dwell on such even when he managed to shakily gain a hold on his error riddled files and put them back into some semblance of order, though part of him wondered if the admin had a hand in this. He had basically given up all rights and permissions to Clu long before the creator had gotten personally involved. 

However, this was not what brought about his revelation that he was correct in being wary and a slight bit in awe of the quiet Yori.

She wasn’t the one in charge fully while the users were gone, despite her quiet competence and seeming easy ability to make anyone follow her politely worded commands. No another that he barely knew was given that dubious honor and she seemed to not be affected by such at all as she sat quietly in the opposite corner of him. Maintaining a polite distance from him as he pretty much pieced himself back together again. ZackAttack having dissuaded the other users to not attempt to do it for him as that would involve another breach of his disk. Now if he could just stop those painful error messages and glitched senses in regards to the Bradley users he may be able to get used to them and their pointed questions. The almost idyllic sense this brought about should have been a warning bell to all of them, especially him considering it was a well-known pattern, he had an excuse though due to his portal induced trauma.

Yet, they were all caught idle and off guard when the sentries and black guards appeared and began to reclaim the area for Clu.  
The confusion had not lasted long, at least in the area he was sequestered in as quiet Yori was suddenly in motion and giving out commands that were instantly obeyed and managed to buy enough time for most to get out. He marveled a bit at it all, even as the silent ‘void’ that was the scarred program literally dragged him out of his prison room and through a user created shortcut to a place unknown. He was sorely tempted to break protocol in regards to seeking out information in regards to a programs function when it was not freely given.

She was far too competent and efficient to be a simple noncombat program, regardless of the fact he had never seen her wield her disk or any weapon at all. If she was a communication type perhaps she had been modified to deal with the influx and flow of data packets and commands thus, would have to be steady and calm even amidst derezzing companions. Add this with the fact that he still did not know fully if she was a rewritten program, or an older program updated to fit a newer system.

Either was disturbing as he was currently at a disadvantage and had no idea what sort of command inputs she had received in regards to him and what to do if he was compromised. Or if she had any coding that may conflict and cause any loops or deviations from her main objectives. An unknown he had no control over and one that he was currently having to rely on until the Users decided to come back to their little war.


	31. Borrowed Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silent and scarred program could only be one of two things by his deductions and lack of information, and neither bode well for his continued existence.

The program was the quietest program he had ever met.

He had met many programs that saw verbal communication as inefficient and thus never spoke an audible word of communication, but they still communicated in other ways. File sharing or pings, even command prompts sent across like silent pressure and static. Yet, this one, that decided for whatever reason to come back to play guard to the broken and deranged user, did none of that. Not even a faint buzz of an identifying tag that practically all programs seemed to emit to label themselves and figure out what sort of program they were in the vicinity of. A fact that he had learned quickly and painfully to recognize and then duplicate when he was out and about, had become as natural to him as if he was a true program. So to be in vicinity of a program that did not use even that basic form of communication was a bit unsettling.

He thought it was a way to try and force him into cooperating more, as it wasn’t really a good interrogating technique. Then again, interrogating him really wouldn’t amount to much in the long run or even the short run. He really hadn’t been part of any information loop in regards to what was really going on or how strong of a force or hold Clu held on anything that wasn’t in regards to what he had helped lock to the system administrator. Then again the users seemed oddly not willing to talk about his time working for the system administrator in regards to actual useful information and tactics. He still didn’t know why they kept trying to get him to feel and examine his time there. It seemed a waste of time and no real work in regards to such.

Wait, that wasn’t the original path of his thoughts.

The program, right, the creepy silent one that gave no indication of what purpose or even a call sign in which to label the other with. At least he had never heard a designation being issued towards the program by others, or him ever acknowledging any name spoken near him. It was like he did everything in his power to make himself seem foreign to the system. Everything seemed to jar and grate on the senses and the feeling of fitting that made up most of the programs in the grid. Even Rinzler had some sense of belonging to the grid amidst the teeth hurting static that was his disjointed coding. This program was a void. A blank spot where one knows information and live code should be. An anomaly that he knew deep down was deliberate and off putting once he pushed down his need to fix the damage the program sported.

It was actually an entire cycle of watching the scarred and silent void that was the program before he figured that he was one of two things.

He was either dealing with an infiltrator unit from Clu, and thus was biding time before finishing whatever orders in regards to his existence were currently out. Or he had been a sentry or black guard that had been ‘fixed’ by one of the users. Perhaps one that saw him as the virus that needed to be taken care of, but did not do so due to the attachment the users seemed to have in regards to him. It would not surprise him in the least if many of the rebel programs would happily have derezzed him if given the chance as he sat here bound and unable to even use his disk as a weapon of defense. With the users being the only staying power on such actions.

He wondered how long that would last, especially if the users became tired of this struggle and left, or for a program to become disillusioned again and go against the users in regards to his safety. Likely when programs were erased due to following orders in regards to his safety likely.

So it was just a matter of time then.


	32. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Compiler learns a bit about Yori and is slightly terrified for a different reason.

They had decided to head to the remains of the I/O tower.

Well, it was more Yori began walking in that direction and the rest of the programs, that had flocked around her after the destruction of the district they had been in, had followed. He had just been brought along like a packet that no one really knew what to do with. The ‘void’ being the only one that seemed to be actively following any directives in regards to keeping him under guard and out of the hands of anyone under Clu’s orders. Despite whatever they were thinking he wasn’t that tempted to wander around a likely chaotic battle zone while still bound, but he didn’t think any would believe him if he said as such and just kept up.

It also allowed him to think in a way that he hadn’t allowed himself since awakening amidst the rebel faction. The fear that they would read the stray thoughts in his field and interpret them as a threat making him guarded and careful in what he allowed himself to openly think about. The clamoring thoughts and priority pings he had to ignore surging forward as he relaxed his hold on his processing. A relief as his focus was spread out more and filters and files had more power to divert and use as he slowly pieced himself into something resembling a whole being.

It was likely why he wasn’t as startled when the query and terse command key was suddenly skittering over his spine before snapping back and dissolving into nothingness as quickly as it had hit him. Already moving to follow the order and ducking into the darkened hallway as the subtle thrum and vibration of a large vehicle moved passed, dimming and flickering lights as it went. The codes and well-worn routes of routines perking up and trying to overtake the halt command that had been tightly beamed to every program crouched and hidden in this section, as the parts of him that still followed Clu and wanted to remain obedient recognized the sentries and their signatures. The conflict harsh and disjointed in his head until it became muffled as the void like program suddenly clamped a hand over a shoulder and transmitted an even harsher **stay**. The novelty of the silent and scarred program actually using any sort of communication working better than the force of the input to make him ignore his own impulses and remain still as the patrol passed.

No one took note of his slight lapse until they stopped to rest and plan in the broken and derelict sector, with the jagged and broken tower that must have once rose up and loomed over the entire city, casting a shadow over them.

Void, as using 'the silent unnamed program' as an identifying tag in his mind had become tiresome, had somehow taken up first patrol and was currently somewhere out there. Hopefully, he was actually patrolling and not leading any of sentries to them, and the other programs were scattered about the broken buildings to rest or find anything salvageable. An idea that would have amused him in a panicked sort of way if he was still not keeping such a tight block on his emotions, at the thought that he was surrounded by mostly repair programs in potentially hostile territory and he couldn’t even use his own disk if they ended up in a conflict. They had pretty much left him alone and easily able to just stand up and walk out, away and back into a patrol route, or even out into the outlands and see how long he would survive as he was. It would at least be a choice and not a series of events he had no control over. Ones that did not have the cold precision that he was able to label as Clu when he examined his initial and deep seated want to turn back and away from the I/O tower remains, and the warm but heavy feeling that was user created patches trying to fit jagged pieces together that would never seamlessly fit again.

Yori had stopped such contemplations as she sat across from him.

Respectful distance and eyes curious and conflicted as well. A look he was not used to seeing on the normally politely confident program. He had no memories tagged with her when he was with Clu, but something outside of her likeness to the user that most likely wrote her, nagged at him. Much like many fragments that part of him felt he should know and understand but couldn’t grasp. In a way it seemed she was also suffering such, so perhaps she was an older program that was upgraded and thus still had echoes and fragments that did not get wiped fully during the transition. It was odd to find another that might have even an inkling of an idea of what his head felt like every time he tried to recall what he would naturally do or think, or even remember in a given situation. Well, someone that wasn’t even more tampered with and disjointed to the point of each action fighting one another that is.

…

He shouldn’t think about Rinzler, it would just lead to more confusion and guilt because he wasn’t doing anything in regards to aiding the enforcer in anyway.

But even that was tagged lowered on his priorities as well because Yori started talking, and mentioning flashes of a time in another system and then the deep silence that he was learning from listening as the transition of a program in storage and powered down. Before being here and learning how to adapt to a system thrown into a war. So she was imported in when the users had arrived and not an actual denizen of the grid. Then she started to talk about finding someone, someone that the users avoiding speaking about and that she knew was on this system. Flynn had given such away without even saying anything. Things he had no idea why she was telling him about, until he saw the calculated look and the competence turn into determination and knew she had an idea he would have some knowledge. Knowledge she wanted him to share and would likely get as efficiently as everything else she would look for.

She was looking for Tron, and he had no idea if he should tell what he actually knew or let her keep any hope she had that he was okay. The users and their reaction to who Rinzler use to be stalling him in this decision long enough for Void to return and the choice to be labeled for later as they had to move once more to avoid a patrol that would run directly into their area.


	33. Glitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a set up, but for which side did the setting up? That was his biggest question.

He had a feeling the entire trip to the tower was staged.

Feeling the sudden teeth aching jarring static mere moments before the jagged whirr of broken code interrupted the silence cemented the feeling; as Rinzler seemingly was created out of the ambient code and right in front of them. Too perfectly timed and precise to be a patrol changing routes and if so it would have been sentries and not the enforcer suddenly standing between them and the structure they were heading for. He was going to be upset if his second theory that Void really was an informer for Clu was correct, because this was a strange and highly odd time to inform about them and give this all away. Even if it did give actual and quite logical reasoning on why the program kept such a strict watch on him when he was around, and Yori is clearly _malfunctioning_ because she was not doing what he thinks she’s doing.

She was…She _knew_

Calm, confident, and somehow even more intimidating as she swiftly walked towards, not away, from Rinzler. It was a suicidal move but something in her expression told that it wasn’t a quick derezz she was walking towards, and he felt certainty click into place at the steely eyed look of determination she had. The users didn’t need to be pushed or cajoled to tell her what happened to Tron, she had figured it out for herself. So she wasn’t asking him those question out of ignorance, but to see what he would say and what she could learn about Rinzler and whatever other reason she kept up such an act in regards to ‘looking’ for Tron. He had a small file wondering if she was an infiltration program at some point, considering how she seemed to gather information from seemingly random data packets and rumors. The rest of his focus was on the odd scene now playing out before him.

Rinzler was glitching.

Aborted movements, dimming and brightening circuits (did they change shade and color there momentarily?) the broken sound rising in pitch and volume making his own wrecked directives whine and rattle in sympathy. He was in agony when his Clu mandated permissions were changed or redirected, fighting for dominance against the user patches and his own conflicting directives, he couldn't imagine what sort of torture the enforce likely was going through with how layered and deep his rectification was. There was going to be violence soon, but no the normal reaction to something that did not fit into what Clu expected of Rinzler did not happen. The ‘threat’ was still standing and the enforcer seemed stalled, caught in a loop feedback. Then he was too busy trying to keep his systems running as he was suddenly fighting an abrupt restart. Everything fading as systems reset, even as he watched Void swiftly move towards Yori and the enforcer. Things were not making complete sense in this sequence.

Things didn't make much sense once he rebooted either.

He was still in the ruins of the I/O tower’s base, still bound, completely not pleased with the sudden restart and the various aches such brought along. However, he was slumped in a different part of the tower and he was blearily looking at something he never imagined seeing, as he took in the form of a non-responsive Rinzler seemingly being guarded by Yori.

He had a feeling he really did not want to know what was going on, or if he was just collateral in this entire thing. He just hoped that when that reboot happened that they had secured the enforcer well enough to not have them all murdered within moments. He didn't put much stock in whatever glitched him before would occur a second time to help them all.

Things had gotten overly complicated since his rectification upgrades had been shattered.


	34. Gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information is information, even if it is gossip over this sudden acquiring of Rinzler.

The users were as almost as confused and surprised as he was when they had managed to locate them, then they managed to get over it enough to add even more to whatever sleep mode that Void managed to cause in the enforcer.

The gleam of pride and crafty triumph that Lora_Bradley had sent to Yori once she got over some of her shock had also made him slowly shift away and add an extra danger label in regards to that user. It was one of the excuses he gave himself for not being too put out that they had then sent him into a series of rooms to remain in until they figured something out. He was apparently being upgraded in his status as a liability and threat due to his not taking advantage of the chaos and happily skipping back to Clu. He also figured that Void was not forthcoming with the fact he had all but set a tracer on him and had been ready to fling a harsh command of **stop** or **pause** at him if he thought he was straying too far from the group as they had waited.

He really should figure out why he instantly obeyed such commands, even if he had a feeling it would not be a pleasant puzzle to finally solve.

Instead he listened as the Iso managed to tell him what little was going around in regards to Yori and what had happened to cause Rinzler to now be in the hands of the users. The text and data packets already moving at swift speeds to every rebel in regards to this news, likely far faster than the users would like. However they were surrounded by programs that thrive on information and passing such along. This sort of news was asking to be forwarded to any and all that were receptive to such. The full story was not out and it seemed the program would only divulge the finer details to her writer and her writer only, but the sheer complication and patience that had been needed to create and effectively set into motion clearly showing her root programing from her time in the ENCOM server. Though no one was certain how she had figured out that the enforcer had broken through his own rectifications enough to recognize her and thus stall out as he had done. That was a complex equation that only a user could likely guess at and find the solution and where it appeared in the timestamps.

He really had to marvel at the fact a small group of programs had managed to create such a plan and keep it under wraps from four users poking about. Though it just proved he was correct in assuming that the imported programs that actually had memory files of life with the MCP were far better suited to knowing what they were doing in regards to keeping from being caught and placed into the games. Though he wondered where they had been earlier, as Clu would have not allowed them to remain unchecked this long if he had any idea of such. Because if they were this meticulous in creating a strategy to take out Clu’s prize enforcer without derezzing him and be confident enough to pull such off and not expect casualties was a power that Clu would not have wanted to gain strength and intelligence during his reign.

He still thought Yori was a bit glitched when it came to self-preservation after deciding it was a good idea to be the trigger for this entire plan. Even with Void supposedly being back up.


	35. Disk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam remembers a task he once did before.

Clu had once given him a disk and told him to fix the coding on it.

He didn’t know who it belonged to, or where it came from. The program it belonged to had not been brought in with the disk. It likely had belonged to a stray or someone trying to code with no real knowledge of what they were doing, but he didn’t ask questions or even pause to think such questions when it had happened. He had sat there and studied the broken and corrupted code work, seeing where each missing piece would fit and seeming to just _know_ what went into the blank parts that had been erased due to the trauma.

It never once entered into his line of processing to realize that he was either bringing someone back from the brink of death, or recreating someone that was scattered across the ground somewhere. The only thing that had been running was the order and the need to complete it, and complete it to perfection. Which for an entire millicycles meant focusing on nothing else but the code in front of him and coaxing it into a full repair with not even an errant string to show that it had ever been in the shape it had been when he had first viewed it.

Clu had given that odd smile of his and a ‘you did good kiddo’ when he had handed the disc over to him as soon as he was certain it was as perfectly done as he could make it; and he had been happy and even gleeing a bit because there had been actual praise freely and plainly given instead of the usual statements that may or may not be praise or just an observation. After that he had been given more objectives in regards to creating or fixing coding that he only had a vague idea on what it actually was for. Well, no he had known, but he had ignored such knowledge for some reason and did all he could to blank what he was seeing from being realized. It made trying to explain what he had done or saw when he did want to answer such questions to the rebels nearly impossible. Though the aspects he could recall and talk about seemed to make the users that much more emotional. All of them seeming to not like how he had been happy to accomplish anything for Clu, or be that obedient to the System Administrator.

He never worked on another disk, nor did he ever find out what happened to that lone disk he had worked on.


	36. Arena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once when Sam was still Sam and not Compiler, he questioned why there were Games. At least for a moment he had wondered.

There was a sudden but expected roar from the Arena as one of the contestants performed outside of the normal parameters.

It was a distant background noise that only really ever seems to make him look up when the volume managed to rise up past a certain level. A marked improvement to when he had first arrived in this place and had been skittish almost any time a Game was held. Mind flashing to his first real introduction to the grid, those confusing and chaotic instances that had him really seeing this all wasn’t some drugged up dream because he got in an accident and was hallucinating or such. In a way he avoided the Arena whenever it was in use, more often than not it would be Clu who would send him off on some errand or other task that keeps him far from the Arena. 

It also gave him time to wonder and think about the Arena, about why it was there.

The washed out memories with the edges softened, told of how the MCP and Sark had used the arena games as execution and punishment to those who disobeyed. Yet dad had created one in this server, on this Grid. Even if it had been safe and no one ended up derezzed if they lost, it was still the same in a way. He made it into a spectator sport. It was something that made him uneasy, made his head swim as he thought down this path and wondered when it became a blood sport. Or whatever you would call it for programs. Why would there even be one? There was an event he was missing that had turned them into this, or he had not been told the full truth by Flynn when he spoke of this place. It was hard to tell at times and the faded stories and memories did not help.

No it was likely something he shouldn’t really think about, even with the whispers and the rumors. Didn’t wish to find any archived files, or programs that may speak of it. Much in the same way he felt no need to wonder about other districts out there, to ask or wish to see Argon or think about ISOs when they are spoken about in passing.

Another roar of the crowd filtered its way to where he is sitting upon a rooftop and untangling a snarled mess that had become one of the roads during a storm. He tunes it out completely this time.


	37. Self Diganostic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam looks at and takes in the damage that is his actual mind/coding.

He had been half tempted to start tinkering with his own alien coding.

It was one part boredom and a whole lot of not wanting to think about the way everything was changing and shifting around him as the frenzy activity and hurried movements of program and users alike rushed past his area. Activity that reminded him of his part in all of this, and to wonder how many programs were not so easy to forget such as they found ways that should have been easily blocked or routed differently due to his interference. Code work that had to be prioritized with every other action being taken in regards to what the users were able to fix now and what they would have to leave be.

It was easier to hide away in his own strings and lines then let himself hit an error loop in regards to his conflict on feeling guilty or not for doing as he was told.

Chaos was the only real way to describe it as he looked and felt along the broken lines and felt the various influences on the parts that were still whole, or achieving such. The bright infused with power aspects that had the slight current that showed it was user manipulated, then the cold and still static that clung and held most of his paths together and in the shape it was directed to create. All while Clu's influnce went about blocking or inserting into areas to ease it into the desired routes. Then there were the pieces that seemed muted and changed in comparison that tried to settle into old patterns and quietly reattach to other pieces while milling about in confusion as it was tugged in three different directions.

It was this that he saw that the majority of his coding was not set up naturally as the Admin’s influence seeped deeply into it and slowly changed or destroyed aspects that were deemed imperfect or not needed. He also saw that, though more benevolent, the user patches and fixes would have to shatter a directive or cut a string in its attempts to restore. The user influence was also confused as it would sometimes try to ‘correct’ a line that was not wrapped up in Clu’s influence. The differing influences were both likely to cause a heavy reset one of these days, if he didn’t start defragmenting himself and erasing as much of both influences in him as he could and manually rewriting what he could and portioning off what was unrecoverable.

He didn’t know what would happen if he did such, or if it would be successful. For all he knew he’d be no better than a beta if he attempted such, and there was still a large part of him that still preferred the uncomplicated time when he didn’t have to think or decide anything and just do as he was told promptly and efficiently. There was no real way to tell how much of that was actually him and what was the influence of Clu attempting to repurpose. It was something he still did not want to really find the answer to either, because even with his emotions still being tamped down and filtered to barely nonexistent in his showing such, they were still there and he still felt them. So he was afraid to find out how much of the damage was truly his fault and had only been encouraged by the easy path that Clu had laid out before him.

Performing enough self-repairs to keep the conflicting sides appeased was a delaying tactic, but he held to such closely and tightly for now.


	38. Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even prisoners get time outside their cells if they have been on good behavior.

“You’re likely to get swept away as well if you’re not careful with all that broken code in you.”

“I’m not the disruption to the system though.”

If any of the users had heard such comments, or even any of the programs that tended to act like recording programs for the users, there likely would have been a few fits and another session of them worrying about how deeply rooted the system administrator had placed his influence. Only to realize a millicycle later that the ISO had not stormed off in a huff or punched him in the mouth for the comment. Though, it was likely a good thing that there were no other programs around, unless Void was being some sort of freaky ninja somewhere, because he likely would have been killed in a sleep mode for such.

Instead they were the only ones in immediate scanning range as the first signs of the system clean up began to start in their sector. He didn’t even really recall why they had ended up in this sector or what sort of excuse the ISO had given to get them to let him out of his section of the building and allowed to roam. She had also just given a look as if she knew what it was like when he asked why she was trying to keep him from going stir crazy. He didn’t ask about her time after the Purge and instead took the chance presented to him before someone could start doubting and rescind the acceptance. So here they were just sitting under an outcropping to wait out the storm silently.

Both silently agreeing not to mention or recall what was happening back where they had came from. That the first attempt to see if the fixes the users had done and taken hold in regards to Rinzler were taking place even as they waited.


	39. Preperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the users had came to the Grid there were steps that Clu had to take and Sam had obeyed.

It had barely been a moment, before it had passed, but that small loss of temper was enough to cause everyone to pause and remain quiet as the system administrator looked out at the city in thought. Pacing now and again in a deliberate manner, but no one moved or dared to just in case the fury was still simmering too close.

That was the reasoning of the sentries and black guards that were present and perhaps a bit of the reasoning for Jarvis as well. He didn’t move or react because there was no reason to. Eyes flickering as the only movement as he leans against the wall he had been leaning against even before the news had been given. He feels more than sees, as to see he would have to move his head a little to even get a glimpse of confirmation, the still form that is Rinzler on the opposite end of the room. Somewhere, the flicker that is Jarvis is also hovering and awaiting orders. It is usually in these moments, when the emotions are brought back into control and leaves a focus in its wake that many changes tend to happen.

It doesn’t take long, and like a sudden muting of sound the dense teeth jarring presence that is Rinzler is gone, as if it was never there. Directives given quickly and efficiently as priorities shift and are added. Then Clu is moving and in front of him, idly twirling an identity disk dulled, and slowly blackening where it had cracked finely when its owner had been derezzed. No pings, or commands and he knows this is a test by the calculating look he is being given as Clu lets go of the disk. Hands automatically reach out to take it and opening it to see how much has already corroded, fingers working quickly to back up as much information as possible. Mind already creating the image of the fake disk to place such in, even creating the fake memories to insert and replace the last moments of the rebel to complete the deception. Only looking up once all that can be is collected and copied and the original crumbles as well within his fingers.

He doesn’t look at the voxels, nor at the pile of them that had once been the program. Instead watching as the sharp smile is back and Clu takes the fake carelessly and hands it to a sentry that moves forward. The process doesn’t take long and they are leaving the sector for another.

And in the distance the light of the portal shines brightly against the sky.


	40. Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self healing is never easy, even when in a computer. Especially on your own.

He finds himself going to the highest places that he’s allowed to go every time he manages to carefully extract another segment of Clu created coding and suffer the consequence of small cascading failures, and sometimes a feeling of loss as the code slowly being repaired attempts to find the correct path. 

It’s a slow process, and even after a centicycle he’s hardly finished two percent of the self-repair work.

A worrying slow pace considering that the longer he allows himself to stay like this, to let the code twist and twine around his own actions and thoughts, he’s a threat to everyone in this base if Clu ever manages to send him a direct order that he would be able to follow. Yet, he couldn’t make himself attempt a large batch overhaul and just sort out the chaos afterwards. Considering how much was purely the effort of the System Administrator in every line he read, he was uneasy to find out just how little was actually him and not rectification or user created patches. There was no real back up for a user that you can reset them to, or use as a basis to fix and correct changed segments.

The users had figured that in time and under his own power a lot of the fragmented memories and directives would begin to fix and reassemble on their own, when the coding that Clu had introduced to keep them from forming and reintegrating back fully had been swept away. He had his own reservations about such statements as he stared and did not sulk in his dark corner when several programs walked by his hiding place. They had said he should start to respond to his actual name by now, but he still didn’t feel like it was his name. The many fake designations he had easily given out and made others believe were his felt more real than Sam would likely ever be. 

Queue, Tri, Ovan, Trax, Alin, Margin, Fade…he had as many designations as he had jobs when talking to others. Thrown away or saved for a later use. He had learned after a lot of trial and error that though he could never fully hide whatever made a user feel different from a program he could muffle and confuse it enough to pass by unremarked if he kept the program from trying to figure him out too closely. In a way, that was part of the problem as well he figured, as his mind stopped throbbing and he felt ready enough to try one of the more complicated looking strings that had been freed now. Even with all of what Clu had done and said to him, he had done a lot of it himself. He was the one that decided to try and act as much like a program as possible, to blend in when he could have just remained known as Clu’s pet user and be done with it. 

That was the part that was going to take more time than anything to fix, and he just knew with how his luck was going that some of the things that were the SysAdmin’s fault would be wrapped in that tangle of messed up thinking.

He had no real idea on what he was doing, and he was still wary to try and seek help from the users, even if he was starting to tolerate a few of them more than others.


	41. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes what they asked of him made things that much harder than if he had been left alone. Other times he needed them to ask him things to give him something stable to work with.
> 
> Still didn't mean they liked his answers.

**“He is your father you know.”**

In many ways you could say that Flynn is such to many within this place, so the entire concept is not as special as it seems they are trying to make it. He still didn’t really understand this emphasis in regards to him and the creator. Outside of the user aspect he didn’t have the memories or emotions, even with his slow and tedious work in self repairing his own code, to see why this is such a topic that is brought up with regularity. Flynn is a user and the creator of the grid that is all he ever really needed to know.

**“Why would you still follow him?”**

Many of the users seemed so adamant in their forcing him away from Clu that he wonders if they were seeing everything that had created the mess. He could see that Clu was not goodness and caring, he had known that even when he was so wrapped around his directives he hardly thought for himself, but he also saw how much Flynn had messed everything up as well in his own ways. It was in a way as if they didn’t want to acknowledge that the _Creator_ had given a program made and design to find the most efficient and best ways to reach a goal an order to create a perfect system. It was as if they didn’t see how that alone could likely have sent any program regardless of Administrative capabilities into a meltdown and to do so when said creator would leave and appear whenever it pleased him. Leaving Clu alone to figure out and keep this odd and new system running and moving smoothly with hardly any support outside of a security program with his own set of duties and problems to deal with.

Even programs need others, and Clu was left alone nearly the entire time he had to be Admin as the other who could help shoulder the burden was a user that visited randomly, and with such long stretches of time between visits sometimes that it was an event to see him appear. He hadn’t learned that at the Admin’s knee fully as they likely thought and blamed for his argument in this. He had roamed about the city on his own and not all that lived there were loyalists despite what some of those who follow the users would say, and any who could remember things before the Purge could not truly contradict these aspects with a different view. He would likely have gone mad under such circumstances and he had User capabilities at least to try and find workarounds for things that could not be fixed just by Admin privileges.

**“The ISO’s and what he did to the programs under his command was hardly of someone that deserves such loyalty.”**

He couldn’t fully think, not without errors and directives he knows are not natural attempting to take him off this path of thinking, but he could think enough. Even the last ISO had admitted that Flynn had expressed more interest in them then the programs that had needed him to help keep the system running. This miracle that he used as his reasoning was too vague, too lacking even in his current mindset for him to see _Flynn’s_ side of it all. He didn’t want them to have died in such ways, didn’t at all condone them being almost entirely wiped out and the sea poisoned to keep more from ever walking out of said sea, but not all programs were friendly to them. If anything it seemed few tolerated them even amongst those that were user loyal and only really were against Clu because of rectification and liberal use of the Games to keep order on the programs. If he had left them alone after purging the ISO’s there would likely have been far fewer who would have flocked to the creator and these new users. 

It was horrible and not the best solution at all, but many of the programs were scared of the ISO’s. More often than not something that did not fit their routines and life was dangerous and Flynn hardly took the time to try and show and prove the ISOs were not a threat but just a new or different type of data that belonged in the system. Even if Clu had not caused the Purges others likely would have in their own ways due to this fear, and the security system was not full proof. It may not have been as swift or efficient, but to think that with such fears and anger towards these new beings that there would not have been an escalation of violence was illogical. Especially with Flynn seeming to not truly realize how much turmoil was being caused by not really helping acclimated these two sides to one another and just threw them together and hoped for the best.

So it wasn’t really much loyalty, but just not seeing either side as fully right or wrong in regards to that. No one won in the end really. And Clu had been, and still was in many ways, his stability even with the admin's mercurial moods.

**“You know you could go talk to him.”**

He wasn’t right.

Not to him at least, when he thought about it. All his memories were of red hued circuits and a silence only broken by the harsh whirring of jagged code. He knew Rinzler, Clu’s enforcer, the one who had personally derezzed more programs than he likely knew about. He didn’t know the blue circuit one who didn’t hide his face behind a mirrored helmet and actually spoke. Even if that voice still held a bit of the jagged edges of that broken code. He knew the one loyal to Clu and Clu only, not one who seemed to have within his very source code a directive to fight for and protect users, even as he seemed to believe he failed such in some way. He knew the habits and reactions of one who only kept from seriously maiming him on more than one occasion due to orders. What would set him off, when to push back, when to retreat and not bring attention onto himself when Rinzler was not in a particularly good mood. He didn’t know the first thing about the security program and not knowing was never good for one’s health in a lot of ways in the system.

And after all, Tron had just been a story spoken in hushed whispers by other programs. Why would he trust a legend brought about by the death of someone he had trusted?

No, talking to Tron was just as good as admitting that the only friend he had was likely gone now, and that was a concept he wasn't yet ready to face with how broken he still was and would likely always be.


	42. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam can't find it in himself to form any sort of bond with Tron when he still keeps looking and hoping to find Rinzler.

He had gotten used to seeing and identifying guilt and the various shades of it that those around him would wear in their faces and eyes.

That didn’t mean he was ready for the odd conflict that was guilt and jagged _brokenness_ that seemed to be a permanent fixture in the eyes of Tron. (Never mind seeing those eyes was already unsettling enough because Rinzler never showed his face and so one never saw what his eyes could show.) It was enough to make him stay back, to watch, to observe and warily circle even as the security program did the same thing. All the while a small part of him past the jagged edges and tightly muffled sensations he was not yet ready to attempt to sort and experience was a bubbling sensation with the electric feel of hysterics attached to it that saw this and was reminded of those murky beginnings when he had poked and pushed at the enforcer to see how far he could make him obey the no permanent harm rule. 

He didn’t want parallels between Tron and Rinzler that would make it harder to keep the two separate and thus justify his grasping at the fact that everything stable and certain was truly gone and just as shattered as his own coding was. Didn’t want to admit that when they were staring down one another in a room in that heavy silence that was almost like the silence he had endured when it had been Clu’s pet user and enforcer in a confined space, only to wince as the illusion is gone when he looks up and sees a face mobile with emotions instead of a mirrored helm or have the silence broken by _Tron_ verbally answering someone else.

He couldn’t fully explain why he felt this way when he ever felt like answering the questions on why he preferred Rinzler and his smacks to the head and barely kept in check sense of violence. Why he would rather hear broken code and silence coupled with that teeth jarring static that filled, and scratched, and clawed at his throat with the need for him to fix it that always marked where the other was. Why would he want all of this instead of the slightly grim faced Tron who surprised him because the wrongness was gone or muted and thus could not be felt? Why the enforcer and not the security program that was willing to ping and be social in a way that would have had Rinzler bristling and cutting a path out and away from all those programs that crowded and watched.

He also would never say out loud that he thinks that Rinzler was more real than this legend, this rallying point that was called Tron.

Maybe in a way, his need to keep the two separate in his mind and thus see the emergence of Tron as a death to Rinzler was him being petty and feeling like he had some control over it all. Much like how he had rebelled and fought against Clu when he had first attempted to force some sort of working relationship that was more than the bare minimum of civility (For Rinzler) that had sparked and been nurtured between the two since that arena fight so long ago. He didn’t want to give up the slow foundation of understanding and tolerance that had naturally formed as the two of them had allied or betrayed one another in their own ways to take the brunt of Clu’s moods depending on the severity of such. Didn’t want the mercy and careful handling that Tron possessed when dealing with the users after having gotten used to and started to flourish under the harsh attempts that were more Rinzler using him as a punching bag then actual training sessions that made him able to hold his own for so long before the other side had cheated and brought users into it all to subdue him.

In a way, within the tangled snarl of Clu, User, and Sam that made up the fragments and strings of code that was him, the want to blame Tron (Because really this is what this was, him punishing the program by skirting away and refusing to even acknowledge the security program as anything other than a story) because he wasn’t certain anything that had been there when they had been Compiler and Rinzler would never be there or be a pale imitation between Sam and Tron. If he accepts that Tron is correct that it is the way it should be then he would have to accept that he is Sam and that he will always be trying to be the Sam the rest expect him to be.

Sometimes, when he turns around to walk away, to retreat and avoid when he sees the blue circuits and the hum that manages to hide, but not fully hide, the jagged dissonance of fragmented code he almost thinks maybe Tron wants to return to the uncomplicated days of being Rinzler as well.

He won’t forgive Tron for letting them take away Rinzler, because it reminds him that they want to take away his pseudonyms and aliases that made up Compiler. Because he sees how much it hurts Tron and he’s too much of a coward to be willing to see if he could survive that pain as well.


	43. Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam needs help and the programs naturally follow directives to help with it.

_Sam Flynn who had rode a Ducati and had a pet dog as a roommate was fiercely independent to the point of concern when coupled with his adrenaline junkie moods. Sam Flynn had also never been one for coddling and being held, that only became worse when he was old enough to not need such anymore by teenage logic. That was the type of person they had been expecting and still hoped to see when they looked at the quiet user pretending to be a program that sat silently in a corner for hours just watching everything around him or lost in his own mind._

_They tend to forget that what had only been a few weeks to them had been months and years of changing and adapting for him. Adapting to ways that would confuse and seem alien to them, because they still didn’t fully immerse themselves into how a program thinks and reacts to certain things out of their control._

_So it wasn’t that odd for them to be confused at the voluntary crowding into personal space that happened one certain cycle._

 

It had started by accident.

He had sat and thought for at least a centicycle and shored up stubborn will and courage to poke at a particularly large and overly tangled snarl of coding that had been blocking any attempts at smaller and more manageable areas of fixing. The various and conflicting pathways and directives with subroutines that went in so many illogical ways had puzzled and terrified him but he had reached a point in trying to put himself back together that he couldn’t skirt around it or delay by pretending to look for a way to break it down into a more manageable attempt.

It wouldn’t be until much later that he would admit he likely should have attempted such when someone else was around when the sudden tumult of it all unraveling into an even more chaotic mess sent him down hard and vision whiting out as his quickly patched together filters were destroyed within moments and all those emotions that he had kept muted and locked away ran rampant. They rubbed and scratched, burned and shocked as they bounced and almost took out a large section of already fixed coding in the twisting and turning that caused him to shudder and weakly flinch at it all.

He wouldn’t be able to recall who had found him curled underneath a couch in some barely used part of the base, wracked with involuntary shaking and crackling energy caused by his emotions that he couldn’t properly ground because of bound hands and bound abilities. He just knew whoever it was didn’t pause when the usual method of aiding in such was unworkable since the circuit lines that flowed across his fingers were hidden in that semi-transparent film to keep him from feeling and manipulating the grid. Instead they had placed one hand into the left circular circuit on his back and there had been enough bleed off for his shut down to safely take place.

An entire User day (And really he found that entire time system odd when he had enough coherency to think about such and that he had to use two different time measurements now because of the portal) had passed with him being passed around and leaning as close to several different programs he muzzily knew in the part of him that wasn’t in pain or trying to cope with _feeling_ so much at one time, as they patiently allowed him to use them to bleed off the excess and use their own steady functions as a tether as he slowly clamped down on it all and slowly put it into some semblance of order. He wasn’t really in any sort of mindset to wonder at the various awkward leaning he had to do to allow circuits not covered by that user made film to lay flat against someone else and their circuits and what the users who came upon such now and again thought, because this would have easily been avoided if most of his functions hadn’t been sealed away in fear as they were.

He never found out what exactly was told to the users about what had happened and why they shouldn’t take it as any sort of sign from him. He was just grateful after a while they stopped giving him that odd look when everything went to how it was and no program even paused when it was all said and done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I just created a headcanon that basically made platonic hugs/cuddles/snuggles something that can help programs in regards to grounding one another if excess energy within them gets to a dangerously high level. Which most can usually deal with on their own by grounded themselves into the grid itself. Which for Sam is a problem (Because Sam has taken to many program habits in this verse and this is one of them) since his finger and hand circuits are the ones that can best do such grounding but are currently blocked off due to people not wanting him to godmode a way out and back to Clu. So the programs that usually hang around for guard duty help by circuit on circuit touching to take some of that excess energy into themselves to either use or ground into the grid later because it's just a natural thing to do when a fellow program is in such a state. Nevermind Sam isn't a program but he puts out the same, if oddly flavored, distress pings a program would in such situations. Users are of course confused by all this because this isn't how things on the user side of things work and what do you mean this isn't a sign Sam is actually trusting them now?
> 
> TL;DR: Platonic cuddles can save lives in this verse.


	44. A State of Okay (AKA an Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end of a war and a state of being okay.

In many ways it was very anticlimactic and abrupt for him.

All he recalled was that he had been deemed safe enough to not need to be tied down and held away in a prison for his own safety, but not trusted enough to help. Still too broken and fragile to risk him being anywhere near when they had decided to end this. Or more in the way that Flynn had decided to end it and had managed to out argue the rest of the users on his plan; all while still letting them find ways to make it work better then what had originally been proposed. He remembered hearing the mutters of 'self-sacrificing idiot' and other such insults at the creator from those he had announced his plan to.

He had not been there when it had happened and only heard bits and pieces of it all muttered and passed around in hurried pings and messages. He had been numb to most of it once his still Clu loyal coding registered that his admin was gone. He had been numb for a very long time when others had rejoiced and began to rebuild.

It had taken a bit of time and the transition from what everyone who had ever been on the Grid to know a time before and after Clu's descent wanted against what the users and the newer programs wanted in regards to how things would go. It had a lot of turbulence and false starts before it met a middle ground. He had been left alone during most of this and that was okay. He didn’t want to be involved in it or be looked at with pity or mistrust while everyone circled around their actual thoughts about the living reminder of everything Clu had done. Tron was better at giving the blank stare of 'not impressed at all with your stupid observations' look which kept the comments down so he didn’t mind that the security program was being accepted far easier and quicker than he was amidst the skittish programs.

That was all okay, and he was fine picking at snarled codes and rebuilding in areas that were needed but were not as high on the priority list. He was fine being mostly left alone as he worked both on the grid and on himself in those cycles amidst the quiet rubble while others converged in the bright areas where the users worked. Much like he found no actual sorrow or remorse when ZackAttack… _Roy_ had finally convinced Lora and Alan that his base coding had changed too much to allow the portal to correctly read him, and thus he would always be denied a chance to see the user world that was now only brief and muddled flashes of memory that remained in his mind. He saw no great loss in such and did not feel at all slighted when programs murmured excitedly about possibly seeing that world for themselves in the future.

It was why he was okay that he sometimes wandered away for days on end when the need to be alone was too much or stayed curled up in an out of the way corner and watched Tron and Yori move about performing their routine functions when he needed to not be alone, but still didn’t want to actually be involved with those around him. Just like how he would sometimes just sit in a dark corner of a little repair garage in a little city on the outskirts of the grid and let the thrum of activity and life wash over him while the director of the garage would sometimes shoot him knowing looks, even as various repair programs chatter around or at him as they fixed various vehicles. Having gotten use to his odd presence quickly and easily after only a few awkward cycles of gawking and circling, to now being almost part of the group passing rumors and intel until Able had ordered them back to work with fond exasperation and he would slip back out to wander again.

He was okay with realizing that he would never be fully fixed, and there would always remain jagged edges and fragments of Clu’s rectification within his very being. He easily adjusted to those moments when he looped as a subroutine couldn’t decide which pathway to take during a decision until he managed to manually create a middle pathway that would satisfy both directives that had caused the error. He was okay with the fluctuation that was Sam and Compiler and never really knowing when he would feel more like bright and curious Sam or quiet and observant Compiler. Even taking in stride the various other aliases sometimes cycling through his moods because they were all him in some way and he just had to learn how to cope with the fact they were different iterations of him within the same copy.

He was okay with never truly knowing the creator as anything other than the user who had built the grid. He did not need a father figure anymore, nor was the approval associated with one a constant ache. Now that he could see that had been what had driven him so naturally to please his system administrator. He was also okay with the fact that despite everything he would likely forever call Clu his administrator, because no matter how much the users frowned and tried to make him stop it was just a fact of everything he was now. He had adapted to life in a grid and had accepted an admin to oversee him.

He was okay with still looking for red circuits and feeling the teeth rattling static that had been an enforcer, and dealing with the hollow disappointment that any glimpse of such within the blue circuit security program would only be brief and not the Rinzler he had been comfortable with. Much like he was not the obedient yet still willful pet user that had to be tolerated and protected. Or looking for that void that was now filled with data and thrumming energy as Anon, once Void but now Anon again, took to helping settle and oversee new security programs as a suite was slowly built to handle any and all complications that may appear as the Grid was rebuilt and updated by the users.

He was okay about not telling anyone when he would wander to a specific and remote spot near the slowly being cleaned out sea of simulation and would sit by an odd obelisk shaped stone. Sometimes just sitting in silence or talking to it of particularly problematic coding he was trying to fix on this side, because there were some things that can’t be rewritten on the user side of the world. Sometimes, he would even feel the dense presence with the steady static hum that was just shy of being teeth grinding and familiar barely within his range of sensing but not enough to be fully out of it. Because it was okay that both of them would miss and mourn an admin that had been their admin as much as they had been his pet user and enforcer. Even when there were also days they could understand and agree with the vitriol most held in regards to Clu, and then there were days when they placed that vitriol on Flynn because of the loss of potential that had been Clu. The potential that had been there in particular moments of planning and glee when problems had been solved and for a moment one could forget those memories had happened while Clu had been attempting to take over a system and gain revenge and attention against and from Flynn. It was okay that both of them broken were the only ones who remembered or acknowledged that Clu had been just as or even more broken then they had been and had never been given help. It was okay now to realize that they had not tried to be the stronger ones to maybe save Clu from himself and stop all of this.

It was okay that he wasn’t and likely would never be fine, because being okay wasn’t that bad when there was still so much left to do. There was an entire Grid to explore and help create from the broken edges being left alone for so long had created. There were still so many gaps that had to find a new pathway that had been broke by Clu or Users in their struggle for control that could never be what they had once were. He even had new problems and scenarios to one day look forward to when the Grid was whole enough to be updated and slowly given new and more powerful foundations to build and thrive on. The users seemingly both parts excited and worried over things like wifi, and bluetooth capability that they were deciding the timeline on integrating into the Grid.

Yeah, he may never be fine or whole or even more then a pale shadow of what everyone wanted him to be, but being okay felt a lot brighter to him then fitting an expectation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is the "official" end of Compiler's universe in a way, but that doesn't mean I may not go back and add more drabbles to this monster of a baby I have been nursing. After all I still haven't hammered out how Compiler and Tron reconcile somewhat, or how Void's true identity was figured out. Even Beck and whatever role he likely had in all of this is still only vague mists in my mind. However I felt some sort of closure should be given and this ending has been written for months already just waiting to be posted.
> 
> This is also when I bat my eyes and act coy about how I hope this inspired someone and if they write anything in or inspired by this stupid verse of mines they would share with me. Because seriously folks I would be all for people playing in this sandbox with me.


End file.
